


Sleeping Dogs

by fizzyspines



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: But it isn't the Main Focus, Canon-Typical Violence, Dad Spy (Team Fortress 2), Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Science Party, Team as Family, only established
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzyspines/pseuds/fizzyspines
Summary: A campaign of sabotage against the RED mercenaries has them stand on edge as they try to figure who or what is going after them. Spy takes the lead on the investigation, and quickly finds out that BLU isn't behind it.In the midst of all this, Scout learns the truth about his parentage, which, as suspected, does not help.Spy hopes this is the only mistake from his past that comes to bite him in the ass. Let sleeping dogs lie, they say. Sometimes, they wake up on their own.-Updates on Sundays!Temp update: Chapter 6 will be posted a bit later this week sorry!
Relationships: Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2), minor Engineer/Medic
Comments: 27
Kudos: 144





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be more Spy and Scout centric, but each member of the team will have their role in this. Also, Dell Conagher is the RED Engineer for this fic, like I'm REALLY not gonna sweat this, sorry!
> 
> I do not know if a disclaimer for this is necessary, but yeah parts of this tory will be heavily headcanon and speculation, because well, Spy and Scout's backstories are kinda free real estate *again, and always, shaking a fist at Valve* 
> 
> ANYWAYS I hope you'll enjoy this! It's going to be a wild ride for me ;;

"Alright, let's hear it," Engineer kicks back on his chair, startling a very pensive Scout with his voice, who had been up until now staring at his half empty can of soda. 

Far from him the will to disrupt such a rare occurrence -after all, a silent Scout does come close to resembling an actual cryptid- but since the boy hadn't even opened his mouth in the thirty minutes he's occupied Engie's workshop, there was a call for concern. 

It's been a small routine. After the ceasefire drops, and the mandatory check up at the infirmary, Scout stays for an hour or so to talk about... well, whatever is on his mind, really. It's usually a nice way to trump solitude for the more reclusive Engineer when Pyro isn’t around to keep him company, and the kid sounds like he needs someone to listen to him.

"H-Hear what?" fidgeting from where he's perched on one of Engie's many cluttered workbenches, the youth looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

"What's currently on your mind."

"I don't-" he wipes his mouth reflexively, "I don't have anythin' on my mind, what makes you think that?" 

"Well, you aren't talkin' my ears off, for instance,'' the older man tells him amusedly. He gets up, stretches, then walks to the mini-fridge from where he retrieves two fresh beer bottles. "Maybe you need something stronger?" 

"Uh... sure?" 

Engineer uncaps one of the bottles and hands it over to him.

"Hey, thanks Engie!" he promptly dumps a good amount in his soda. "Nice." The other observes in utter disbelief. Even his goggles cannot hide what he's experiencing when he gawks at the boy down whatever mix he'd just created. 

"Alright. So?" Engie decides to dismiss this shameful display altogether. Kids these days...

Scout sets aside the cursed can. Thank God. "It's Spy." _When is it not?_ Engie thinks to himself as he takes a sip, "He's been doin' that thing again. You know?"

"No, I don't think I know," Scout glares at him and that makes him chuckle, "But go ahead." 

"Cleaning up my messes, as he calls it or somethin', I don't know. I don't care." he looks visibly frustrated, "Today I was cornered by BLU's Heavy, ya know, big guy, couldn't find an escape route, he had his big gun on me, so I'm like, alright, that's it, he got the better of me, I'm ready for respawn." 

"Huh-huh," Engineer grimaces a bit. Respawn is never a great experience. 

"And then out of nowhere, the Heavy just... collapses." Scout mimics a plummeting gesture, "Backstabbed. By Spy.", then a stabbing one. "And he just looks at me disdainfully and tells me to 'Not get cornered like that, it's embarrassing', before he walks away! Can you believe this? Freakin' unbelievable." 

"Well I suppose he knows better than to abandon position for petty reasons," the older man says noncommittally, because on the whole, Scout is not wrong. Spy has always been acting rather condescending towards him.

"You'll be surprised how much he does that." Scout sneers. "A bit later after that, he gets the drop on BLU's Pyro- I hadn't seen him, I was busy shooting at their Demo- before he gets the chance to set me on fire."

Engineer scratches his chin. "And why was that a bad situation, son?" he asks, fully aware of Scout's deep, terrible fear of the enemy Pyro. 

"It's-!" he exclaims a bit abruptly, his arms thrown in the air, "It's not... that bad but. I wish he wasn't doin' that, you know? Questionin' my competence? Cause there's nothing to question. I'm freakin' great at this. He’s just jealous ‘cause he ain’t half as great." 

After his outburst, Scout calms down rapidly. He pouts, then goes for a swig of the unmarred beer in the bottle next to him. Engineer sighs. "No one is putting your skills in doubt, son. No worries." 

"Thanks, Engie. It's just. I guess I was sorta fine when he did that occasionally but he's been frankly frustratin' with it lately." 

"Lately?"

"Since two weeks ago. Started right after..." Scout blinks. His cheeks turn bright red. "The incident, actually." 

"Oh." Engineer takes a minute to process, "Oooooh."

Yes. That incident. How could he forget about it?

How could he forget... _The sound of Scout tearing through the base, bat in hand, screaming like a feral animal as he guns for the common room. Doors are slammed, and he has immediately zeroed in on Spy, bat pointed at the mildly confused Frenchman who was in the middle of a conversation with the Medic._

_"YOU!" Scout roars, taking strides towards the man._

_"Me?" Spy simply inquires with his gloved hand on his chest. "What about me?"_

_"You. Freakin'. BASTARD." the young man keeps yelling, "What did you fucking DO TO MY MA?" he then pushes a folder flat against Spy's chest._

_Curious, Spy takes it in his hands to inspect it, and upon opening it..._

_"Ah well," he chuckles, "by the looks of these... steamy pictures of us, it looks like I did her. And she did me." this earns a few rounds of laughter from the men present in the room. Then, looking at the fuming smaller mercenary with his hands clamped tightly around the handle of his metal bat, Spy adds, "Thank you for retrieving those for me, Scout. I forgot where I put them."_

_Which was, in retrospect, not the best thing to say to an emotionally unstable boy with violent tendencies._

_All hell broke loose._

_"YOU BASTARD!" Scout swings the bat at Spy, only for it to be met with the folder held defensively in front of the latter's head._

_"Honestly, garçon! Why make such an embarrassing display of yourself over a couple of photos that you should have never seen in the first place?" Spy asks from behind his makeshift shield._

_Instead of replying, Scout goes for another swing, but this time Spy slaps the weapon out of his hand with the folder before gut punching him. This does kick the wind out of the boy for an instant; but far from deterred, he retaliates. And soon enough, both men are at each other's throats, ready to send each other to respawn point, even though inactive._

_It takes Sniper and Engineer to intervene and make sure neither of them did anything more stupid, Sniper armlocking Spy before he could knock the boy out while Engineer drags Scout out of the scuffle._

Needless to say, the following hours that evening had been... awkward. 

But Engineer thought that after a couple of weeks, it would have been resolved. At least Scout and Spy had seemed on better terms. 

"D'ya reckon he feels guilty about what happened?" he offers, getting to the bottom of his beer. Oh. He should probably grab another one if the talk goes on. 

"Don't think he can even feel guilty. He's full of... French... deception.... Uh." even the kid realises the lack of sense in his sentence. “He’s a piece’a shit.” 

Hoo boy. Yes. Second beer more than necessary. The short man goes to duck back into the mini fridge. "Look, boy. If there's anything I gather from this, it's that you both needa talk." 

Scout almost drops his bottle. Fortunately, he doesn't. "Wh-what- what? Engie, are you out of your mind? I can't talk ta... ta him!" 

"Hmm hm, but if this keeps happenin', and it still bothers you, you're going to let it slide?"

"W- wh- no. A'course not."

Engineer leans on the mini fridge. "So. Find a way to talk to him. Solve this problem you two have. I can even be there, if you don't trust yourself to not want to strangle that poor Spook." 

By the way Scout looks at him, it seems like the suggestion gives him quite some relief. Nothing has to be said for the older man to understand that. "...Thanks." he lets out, eyes glancing down at his lap. " 'Appreciate it." 

"S'nothing, son. You'll be okay, right?" he pats the boy's back. 

"Y-yeah!" the other assures. 

Before any of them can add anything, the door to the workshop opens a little, enough to let a white dove with some reddened feathers fly over to Engineer's hardhat, where it finds its perch. "Oh, hello, lil' feller" he greets Archimedes when the bird leans over the hem to look at him. "Where's-" 

"Schatzi!" Medic exclaims as he opens the door all the way, "did you finish zhat piece of equipment I asked f-" the doctor stops in his step as soon as he notices that in fact, the Engineer is not alone in there. He clears his throat, hand balled in front of his mouth, then squares himself right at the door frame. "I mean, Herr Conagher, did you finish zhat piece of equipment I asked for?" 

This puts a smile on the Texan's face. "Oh! Doctor Ludwig! Well, it is indeed done, I was about to deliver it to your office but I had an..." he taps Scout's shoulder. "Impromptu engagement." 

"Ah, I see. I can come back later if you desire, it is not zhat urgent." 

Scout can't help but roll his eyes. These two goofs. Everyone knows they're some sort of an item, yet they act so weird about it. 

"No, no. You get right in here, Doc', let me get ya that piece." he gestures to him to come further inside. 

"Hey Doc," Scout waves at him as the tall German man walks in front of him. 

"Yes. Good evening, Scout." he just says with a pleasant smile, and immediately upon reaching Engineer, he whispers to him, "Is zhis... young _Scheißer_ bothering you? I can take care of him, I do have a horse pancreas zhat needs to-"

"Can hear ya, Doc," the youth lets him know, stretching his legs while gripping firmly on the workbench. Medic purses his lips.

"I'm good, he's very well behaved," Engineer assures Medic, ignoring the glare sent his way. "Take a look at this, rather." he reveals what he had been working on before the conversation with Scout. Even the latter is a little intrigued by the contraption, so he decides to hop off his seat and walk a bit closer. 

"Incredible!" the doctor is careful when he handles it, "Fantastic vork, Herr Conagher!" he then squints at Scout, "do not even think about touching it." 

"I wasn't gonna!!" he crosses his arms. Honestly, all these guys still think he's a child or something. 

"Good." Medic focuses back on the fragile piece of equipment in his hands. 

"Now, I don't exactly know what you plan on doing with this, but you should keep in mind that-'' Engineer starts a long, complicated explanation that Scout ends up tuning out on account of most of the stuff Engie says about machines being far beyond his own level of comprehension. It used to piss off Scout to no end, all that smart talk, but after working with the Texan for so long, it's nice to see how he glows up while infodumping, so hyper fixated on yet another one of his cool inventions, that Scout doesn't exactly mind not understanding a single word of it anymore. Usually, Engie didn't count among the chatty members of the team, and if he wasn't making dinner or doing his fair bit of chores, he would isolate himself in his workshop for hours on end. Only Pyro, and Scout, occasionally, would keep Engineer company there. When given the chance to discuss his interests, though, people could see how captivating he actually is.

Medic towers silently in front of the short inventor, captivated indeed by his flow of words. Scout can't help but smile when he catches the doctor's enamoured stare; he figures he could leave them two to it, they probably have waited all day to get a moment to themselves. That, and Scout doesn't want to suddenly wake up in the night, in Medic's clinic, strapped to a slab, a horse pancreas sewn into him.

"Well, I'll see if I'm needed somewhere else," the young man says, backing up to the door, "see ya' for dinner, guys?" 

"Ja, ja," Medic dismisses him, bitter about the interruption, "now raus," he tells Scout, more impatient than angry. Yeah. He's still sleeping with one eye open and his metal bat in bed.

Engineer gives him a thumbs up. Scout replies with a small salute and takes the door out into the hallway. Just as he lands outside, he hears Engie get interrupted again, this time by a kiss. The boy chuckles. Man, they're cute as shit, he thinks, as he takes a few steps, shaking his head. Even if they go about this like twelve year olds. And he's supposed to be the kid of the group. 

At one end of the large hallway, the two doors of what constitutes as their base's pantry suddenly kick open, catching his attention. A few low Russian curses rise up in the ambient silence as the Heavy struggles to keep them apart.

Scout trots towards him to hold one of the doors. 

"You okay there, big guy?" he leans in to find the large man fussing with a crate of potatoes. 

"It is fine." Heavy nods. "Thank you."

"Sure. No problem. You on dinner duty?"

"Yes. Engineer said he was busy. So I make dinner tonight." 

Engie probably mentioned the commission he got from Medic. He's usually the one fixing up evening meals, but Heavy steps in from time to time. Which is great, because he is a very good cook as well. 

"Neat! What's on the menu?" 

Heavy glances down at the tubers in the crate. "Hmm. Potato." 

"Huh huh," Scout nods, feeling bad to force his colleague into small talk, but here they are now. 

"And meat. Is in the kitchen." the Russian man looks at him. 

"Oh yeah! Potato n' meat! Great combo, can never go wrong wit' those, I guess I should huh, let you get to it, then” Scout finger guns at him, slowly backing away. 

Heavy's icy blue eyes pierce holes into him. Everyone on base knows how the young man has been avoiding any kind of chores for a week, and they've all been trying to trap him ever since. The intense stare from the silent giant in front of him seems to work because he comes to a stop. Defeated, Scout lowers his shoulders. 

"D'ya need help, or-"

"Yes! You come peel potatoes," 

Scout sighs to this. "Okay." 

"Hmph! You are just like little Zhanna, when she doesn't want to help in kitchen," Heavy remarks, leaving the pantry doors to swing to a close after him. He makes sure to place himself behind the younger mercenary, so as to thwart any escape attempts. That said, he is not above dropping the crate to catch him. 

Still, Scout tries to get out of this. _Think, brain_. "Actually, I just remembered I have to-" the lie doesn't have the time to land in the other man's ears, because it is cut by the distant, yet very loud, sound of a sentry going off outside the base. 

Scout immediately takes a comical defensive pose, and Heavy almost drops what he's carrying. 

The activated sentry delivers a good salvo of bullets, recharges, then goes off again. 

Then... nothing. 

Heavy and Scout wait for a possible third onslaught. They startle when Engineer erupts from his workshop armed with his Frontier Justice, Medic in tow. His buildings are programmed to reply to human signatures that are not any of the RED mercenaries' as an anti-intruder measure. It had been directly commissioned by the Administrator after the raid of one of MannCo’s warehouses near Santa Fe about a month ago. Several pieces of equipment used in the gravel war were stolen in the process, and the company had yet to locate any of them. Any animal straying on base is usually spared by the new sentries, and BLUs know better than to wander around when respawn is inactive. In understandable panic, Engineer loads his weapon. He looks at the door leading to the outside. 

"Vait! You can't go out like zhis," Medic grabs one of his shoulders. 

"I have to check who or what set it off," 

Medic struggles to hold him in place, and glances at Heavy and Scout for help, overwhelmed. Before any of them move, however, Soldier, Demo and Pyro run in, alerted by the sound. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Soldier bellows, ready for action. "BLU scum around the base?!" 

Engineer turns towards him. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. I highly doubt they're stupid enough to go after sentries during ceasefire, but I need to make sure." 

"Hang on. Wait, what?" Demo intervenes instead of Soldier, "Ye out of yer mind? We can't let ye go on yer own!" 

"Well-" Soldier starts, then stops to reconsider, "that is true. It IS pitch black outside, and they could be waiting to get the drop on you. Goddamn maggots." 

"He's right. I doubt ye head full of eyeballs will be able t'see anything, let alone with those goggles of yours."

"Now, Soldier. Demoman. I'll be fine. Need I remind you that I have a shotgun?" he holds his Frontier Justice proudly. Everyone stares at him. "What? What did I say?" 

Medic shrugs. Nobody really wants to comment on how absolutely unthreatening Engineer looks, even with a gun. It’s one of those subjects the short man is very sensitive about. 

"Listen. I have to go look either way. That sentry didn't go off for nothing." 

"I'll go with him." 

Spy decloaks next to Scout, which makes the latter shriek. The Frenchman ignores that. 

"Thanks. It'll be quick." 

Now that he's accompanied by a competent fighter, both Soldier and Demo back down. Soldier gives them a nod. 

"Careful, men. We don't know what's lying out there." 

"We'll wait for ye in the mess hall," Demo adds. 

"Hey! Hey wait," Scout lets out, desperate for an opportunity to not help preparing the food, "Can I c-" Heavy grabs his arm and starts dragging him towards the kitchen, unamused. 

* * *

The night air is cold. It bites at Engineer's face. Whoever the sentry might have shot at, he sincerely hopes for them to have bled out by now, otherwise what’ll he do to them for forcing him to go outside will be a thousand times worse. Both him and Spy leave the halo of light that surrounds the walls of the base's backdoor, and step into the dark. The Texan switches on the front light he’s tied around his hardhat.

On the screen of his PDA, Engineer can consult the list of active units around the base, as well as their status, health, and amount of ammo. Number 3's icon flashes, indicating that it is missing half of it. 

"Over there," he waves to Spy, voice half hushed, and his teammate follows him. 

Fortunately, the sentry in question isn't located too far off from the exit. It would indeed be a short trip out, as expected, unless there were unforeseen complications. However, judging by the stillness around them, they are more likely to catch a break. Which prompts the Engineer to take advantage of the situation for an overdue talk. 

"Spook." 

Spy visibly considers not replying for the sake of remaining discreet. He respects Engineer too much to ignore him. "Laborer." 

"I was talking to Scout earlier." 

"Oh." 

They approach their target slowly. That brief response sounds rather guarded but it doesn't deter Engineer.

"The kid's getting restless." 

"Yes? And what am I supposed to do about this?"

"Are you serious- You're the most concerned out of all of us when it comes to this." 

Instead of replying, Spy pushes past him to reach the sentry. Sometimes, the Texan swears that he shares the same childishness as his alleged progeny. His companion inspects the sentry that's back to its gentle rotation. There doesn't seem to be any sign of interference. 

"No sapper of any kind," Spy concludes. 

"This checks out with the PDA." Engineer scratches his chin, "I'll be darned. Everything is in order." 

"That's good news. Now let's see if it shot anything down." 

“It didn’t register a kill,” Engineer points out as Spy starts to move. The shorter man stops him. He isn't done with the previous topic. "He deserves to know." 

Spy rolls his eyes. "And that's none of my business." 

"Please. I'd probably believe in you not caring if you didn't go out of your way to get him out of trouble twice today." the other remains silent, "Yes. I know about that. He told me. Just because you do that when none of us is watchin' doesn't mean it'll go unnoticed." 

"Did he... did he tell anyone else?" 

"I don't think so. As far as I know, I'm the only one he opens up to." 

"Good," there's relief in Spy's voice, "Good to hear." 

Engineer lets go of him. "Give him some closure. You need it as well." 

"I will... think about it." 

Judging the reply acceptable, Engineer decides to cut him some slack. He gives him a brief nod, to which Spy responds silently. After that exchange, they return to their investigation, with the Frenchman walking towards the direction that the sentry could have shot in. The light from Engineer's hardhat shines bright enough to give him some visibility. So far, nothing turns up: no body, no blood, no impact site. Odd. He desperately wishes to get back inside, but he cannot let himself leave without at least thoroughly looking for any sign of disturbance. Sentries do not just go off arbitrarily. Moreover, Spy wouldn't allow any half-assed job of his to put any of his teammates in danger. Lucky for him. Engineer is about twice the perfectionist; if the excursion annoys him, the prospect of leaving any stone unturned is a far more aggravating one. 

Spy's shoe hits something in the dark. The object seems to slide for a bit, which catches his attention. "Laborer! Get your light here, please," he calls out. 

Carefully turning off the sentry before stepping in its field of vision, Engineer steps closer to provide the much needed brightness. 

"There's a trail of bullets, there," Spy points with a gloved finger to the now visible ground. "I also kicked into a discarded item, I doubt it to be a scattered body part." 

"Can you find it?" 

"Give me a second, I believe it slipped in that direction." 

As his companion moves, Engie tries to keep a steady supply of light. After a few seconds of searching, Spy finally tracks down the object. He goes down to pick it up, puzzled. 

The Texan remains at a safe distance until he knows what it is for sure. Demoman was right; those goggles do not help him to see too clearly at an obscured distance. He'll be darned to remove them, though. 

"Well? What is it?"

"It's safe. Just a folder." Spy squints at it, "I need more light."

"Here, here," Engineer approaches, "But that's it? A folder? We went through all this panic for a single folder?" 

He nonetheless still takes the precaution to hold his Frontier Justice ready to use. Who knows, the mystery intruder could still be lurking around. 

"What's in it, then," he cranes his neck up, half attentive to his surroundings. 

"Us." Spy says pretty calmly as he turns the pages.

"Us?" Engineer blinks. It goes unseen because of his eyewear. And the low visibility. 

"Photos of us, to be precise," the taller man adds, "and they look fairly recent, some of them. Here, look. This one is from when Soldier destroyed Pyro's card castle, and they got in a fight because of it." 

He holds up the small photograph that depicts Pyro bench pressing Soldier, ready to toss him into a trashcan. Demo can be seen laughing at the predicament, a bottle of whiskey in hand. Engineer takes it in his hands. It seems whoever held the camera was standing outside, watching through a window.

"That was... only two days ago." 

"Indeed. And they look to have been taken from a fairly close distance, as well. One that sentries wouldn't allow intruders to reach. At least during the ceasefire." 

Yet, there's a number of other pictures in there. One of Scout in the laundry room, definitely not from this week, but an earlier occurrence where he neglected separating reds from whites for the sake of finishing the chore faster and was forced to wear pink socks for a while. Another one shows Medic greeting Sniper at the entrance of the base in the early morning.

Even Engineer's ingenious mind has trouble grasping the sense behind this situation. 

"Did... Scout ever tell you where he got the pictures of his mother and I?" Spy asks nonchalantly as he takes the photograph of Pyro and Soldier back to tuck it in with the rest. 

It takes a few seconds for the other to process the question. "Huh? Oh, he mentioned finding that other folder outside during one of his laps. It just laid there and he picked it up. Why?" 

"Remember when I told him that he should have never seen these photos in the first place? I meant it. What I believed to be the only versions are currently kept in my safe." Spy explains. Those had been really hard to pry from enemy spies. He had checked immediately after returning to his private quarters. As expected, no one had gone through his personal belongings. 

"I admit that I don't follow you, right now, Spook." Engineer lets out hurriedly. 

He's cold, tired and frustrated; he wants nothing more than to at the very least step back inside before engaging in a deduction game. 

Spy somewhat shares the sentiment. "It means, from what I understand, that someone is currently trying to mess with us." 

* * *

Silence reigns supreme in the mess hall as each mercenary, save for Scout and Heavy, who are still not done preparing dinner, observes the pile of pictures scattered on the large dining table. At this time, the place is loud as hell, and everyone eats together, save for those who preferred to have their meals on their own. When Sniper makes a shocking appearance, after being notified of the discovery, the entire RED team is gathered for the first night in a while in the dining area. 

Bored from peeling the potatoes, Scout tries to slip away and join the others, but Heavy reminds him wordlessly of the task at hand. The younger man complies, not without a pout. This does not faze Heavy. 

Soldier tips the hem of his helmet up a little while looking at a photo of himself feeding feral raccoons. "That is all you found, men?! No BLU scum?" there's a tinge of disappointment in his voice. 

Engineer sighs. He swears, that man is just about ready to throw down any chance he gets. "It's pretty concerning. I believe that someone willingly activated a sentry to lead us to this folder." 

"We did not find a body either," Spy adds after breathing some smoke, "So our mysterious messenger most likely survived the encounter." 

Soldier goes to toss the picture back in the pile, reconsiders, then tucks it in his collar.

"Ye didn't look no further?" Demo eyes each items in front of him, a hand scracthing his chin. 

"There was no one else outside. I inspected the area." the Frenchman walks over to a pillar to lean against it. Smoke from his cigarette follows him in his path. "Thoroughly."

"I can confirm." Engineer adds, "whoever delivered these to us just came and went. Sniper, did you see anyone from your camper?" 

“Saw nothin’, heard nothin.” The Australian informs. “That is, until one of your guns went off. I regret not bein’ of much more help.” 

The other mercenaries fall silent for a moment. All they can come up with are conjectures at best; ultimately all they have is that folder. 

Scout speaks up first, looking up from what he’s doing. He merely cannot handle silence too well. "I don't get th'big deal about all this. These are just pictures." Some glances turn to him, "What? I'm right." 

"You dimwit," Spy exhales in desperation at the younger man's perceived lack of common sense, "These mean that someone has been watching us. For some time. And documenting it. They wanted us to know about it. And now we know." 

Scout turns a sneer towards the Frenchman. As always, the latter dismisses it. Heavy’s large hand forces Scout’s head to focus back on the potato he’s currently holding. Now that, Spy doesn’t ignore, and it manages to coax the ghost of a smile on his face. It immediately disappears when Engineer starts talking again. 

"What's worse, Spy mentioned it while we were investigating, is that these were taken most likely under sentry range." Engineer still doesn't know how to figure out that part. His machines are finely tuned and in perfect working order.

"There's only one kind of maggot that can sneak by a sentry," Soldier snaps his head towards Spy, expectant for an answer. His headwear tumbles slightly with the sudden movement.

The Frenchman shrugs, cigarette in hand. "I'm arranging a rendez-vous with my BLU counterpart before matches start tomorrow," he sounds a little unconvinced by that decision, "I highly doubt it'll bear fruit, but at this point, any track is exploitable." 

"Good. I will not tolerate that kind of gutless mind campaign against us." The American puffs his chest, "We shall inform the Administrator of this matter at once. Let her know that those BLUs are nothing but scum." 

The mention of her name gives chills to all the men present in the room.

"Hang on there, Soldier," Engineer raises a placating hand, “Let us not bother the lady for now, alright? We don't even know for sure that BLU is behind this." 

No one opposes him. Bothering the Administrator on only speculations would risk to sour her mood even more than usual. She was already difficult to deal with.

"Then who else would be?" Soldier asks, visibly disturbed by the very possibility of an outside threat. 

"That's what we're going to try and find out," the Texan man assures him. He moves to gather all the pictures, except one that Pyro is holding quite fondly, "For now, I pray that y'all keep an eye out, and let the others know if anything seems out of the ordinary." Seeing as no one reacts, he adds, "C'mon on men, cheer up! We'll get to the bottom of this!" 

"I believe in Engineer," Heavy nods. The others follow his lead. 

"If I catch the one responsible, I will break his neck," Soldier affirms, one hand balled into a fist. "And make him eat those pictures." 

"AFTER we get answers," Engineer tells him in a stern tone.

“If business is done here, please leave. I will call when dinner is ready.” Heavy tells the rest. He’s visibly losing patience at the source of distraction they’re providing his easily distracted assistant. 

Everyone agrees to leave for now. Before he walks back to his workshop, Engineer hands Spy the folder for safekeeping. The latter takes a long, very long drag of his cigarette. This turn of events still concerns him. He hopes that the other Spy will be able to shed light on all of this. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fruitless meeting with the BLU Spy, the sabotage intensifies. Scout is caught in the middle of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this particular chapter:
> 
> -some graphic depictions of violence/injuries  
> -vomitting  
> -mild panic attack
> 
> Both Spies say a few things in French, I have put the translation at the end!

Dawn hasn't broken yet, everything around him looks dull and grey, not that it differs much from daytime. His particular distaste for the New Mexican landscape knows no bounds. To him, it all looks like a desolate pile of rubble, sand, and rocks, one that is difficult to navigate in, and that so easily leaves discoloured smears on his favourite suits. He'd seen enough ruined surroundings before to not care for them anymore. Still, Spy makes his way casually towards the BLU respawn point. Hours before the usual confrontations, it looks rather peaceful, if not a bit daunting. 

He squints his eyes. A shadow moves in the darkness behind the closed gates. Those would only open when the first mission on the schedule starts.

Ah, punctual. As always.

As he approaches the rendez-vous point, Spy carefully decloaks. Back against the gate, he whispers, " _Allons, Enfants de la Patrie_ ," 

Without skipping a beat, the BLU Spy answers, " _Le jour de gloire est arrivé_." 

The first two lines of their country's anthem is their way to confirm not only their identity, but also their peaceful intentions. RED's Spy finds some poetic irony in this choice, since _La Marseillaise_ calls French citizens to war and glorified murder, not peace. He's certain that BLU's Spy feels the exact same way. 

"I am glad you could make it, _mon ami_ ," Spy lights a cigarette. He's grown to appreciate his BLU compatriot, regardless of their daily exchange of backstabs and headshots. The moment he learnt that the rival Spy was also not from Paris and had worked with _La Résistance_ during the war, just like he did, albeit in a different branch of operations, he couldn't help but cultivate heartfelt sympathy for him. Outside of working hours, that is. 

No hard feelings. 

"Should we conduct this meeting in French or in English?" BLU Spy asks, getting himself a smoke as well. 

"English is fine," 

"Alright. Oh, do you mind," he holds up his cigarette. 

"Of course," Spy takes his lighter to it. 

"Thank you," the other says, "So?" 

"I was hoping you could help with a very puzzling situation. Last night, an intruder broke onto our base's grounds, evaded a sentry, and left us a present, if you could call it that." 

"A present, you say," BLU Spy raises an eyebrow, intrigued. 

Spy whips out one of the pictures from the mystery folder. BLU Spy goes to grab it, but Spy keeps it out of reach. He is not THAT trusting. 

"Photos. Of my team. A lot of them." he tells the other, "I've retraced them and the oldest looks to be about a month old. You wouldn't know anything about that?" 

BLU Spy purses his lips, eyes fixed on the object. "I know these are something I'd kill for." 

Spy scoffs. 

"But I am not stupid enough to approach the base during ceasefire," his counterpart almost sounds like he's questioning his logic. They both remember what happened last time, and BLU Spy's short stay in Medic's fridge until respawn was enabled again. He reflexively rubs his neck at the thought.

"That's what I keep telling the others, but they're convinced your team has to do something with it." 

"By 'the others', you mean your Soldier, _oui_?" 

"I do," Spy rolls his eyes, "Listen. These were taken under sentry range, for weeks, and only last night was one of them activated. Thus, he believes that only you could be capable of this." 

" _Qu'il est borné_." BLU Spy lets out before puffing some smoke.

"Tell me about it," Spy chuckles. He pockets the photo.

"Well. I can assure you that I was not the one to take any pictures, nor was I the one who delivered those to your base." 

"You're certain."

"Yes. That was not me. I limit my interactions with the fools on your team, beyond our meetings, to the hours where I'm contracted to repeatedly murder them." 

This should bring Spy some relief. BLU is not devising a vicious plan against them; one that could go against the rules stipulated by their jobs, and yet, he only dreads the obvious conclusion. He rubs his masked forehead, letting out a heavy sigh. 

"This somehow worries me more." 

"Understandable." BLU Spy crosses his arms. He hears noise from another room in the respawn point, which has him stand on edge for a few seconds, ready to cloak, but no one comes his way. 

"And your team did not receive any pictures of any kind, at all?" 

"No, nothing," the other confirms, "But I can let you know if something turns up on my end." 

"That would be greatly appreciated, thank you." 

"Are you planning to notify the old hag?" 

BLU Spy is noticeably more liberal in the ways he calls their boss. Another trait his counterpart appreciates.

"Not for now, no." Spy shakes his head. "We agreed not to, that is unless this escalates into more serious threats against RED." Which he ultimately hopes doesn't happen. Wishful thinking. 

"Perhaps for the best. Especially if it involves someone outside of this conflict." BLU Spy concedes. 

"Let's hope not." 

"Of course. That said... you mentioned the oldest pic to date from a month ago, and it coincides somewhat with the raid on one of MannCo's warehouses." BLU Spy remarks, and he doesn't need to remind him of the details, since they were all what the Administrator would yell about at any given chance. 

Spy fills his lungs with as much smoke as he can, in hopes he could spontaneously combust. "If they are linked in any way, she will be informed." 

"Naturally." 

Neither of them ever looks forward to communicating with her. More sounds rise from the bowels of the BLU respawn point. Their Soldier's voice echoes right up to the Spies' ears. A sign that their little meeting has come to an end.

"Hmmm... My team is getting ready. I should return to them before they suspect anything." BLU Spy pushes himself off the wall. "They're less moronic than your teammates, but, at the end of the day, they still are." 

Spy lets out an incredulous snort that is particularly unbecoming of him. He hopes no one else saw that. BLU Spy hopefully doesn't take notice, and tosses the butt of his cigarette, which he promptly puts out with a stomp. 

"We will see each other on the battlefield?" 

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." 

Before making his way into the depths of his base, BLU Spy lets out one last thing. " _Ah oui. Merci, pour le feu_." 

" _De rien_ ," Spy replies as he turns on his invisibility cloak again. He quickly ascends towards one of RED's buildings. They're scattered all around the terrain; reaching one before his cover runs out and an eventual BLU team member spots him is not a problem. He simply dislikes hearing his own footsteps echo in the vast emptiness around him. The quicker he gets out of the gravel, the better.

When he reaches the first set of wooden stairs he finds, and ducks inside, Engineer and Soldier are waiting for him, fresh out of the teleporter exit Spy was instructed to deploy before meeting with his counterpart. In the presence of his allies, he reveals himself. Both men jump slightly at the sudden appearance. 

"So? What did he tell you?" Soldier tries very hard not to shout his inquiries, and somewhat manages to do so, "Did the BLU scum confess to his crimes?" 

Spy breathes in the last drag of his cigarette before smashing it on the wall. He senses Soldier's heavy glare on him. "No. Because he didn't do anything." 

The smaller man's mouth curls into a disappointed scowl. 

"As I told you many times already," the Frenchman continues, barely annoyed, "BLU is not behind this." 

Engineer scratches the back of his neck, "Pardon my scepticism, Spook, but are we sure we can trust his word?" 

"Yes. This would violate his contract, hm? Meeting with me is one thing, but roaming on our base outside of work hours is another. Even for a Spy." 

Especially now with the new security measures, not only his contract, but his life could be terminated as well. 

"Alright, you have a point." Engie backs off, "So we're back to square one." 

"We never left it." Spy shrugs. Despite acting flippant about the issue, he is still experiencing some frustration. Neither Engineer nor Soldier need to know about it, though.

Soldier rapidly loses his patience. "This was USELESS! I don't think I can tolerate any more distraction from our main mission! Which is, need I remind you, to make sure BLU maggots bite the dust!!" 

"You're right, Soldier," Engineer turns to Spy, "He's right." 

They're all still on a payroll. One that can disappear with the snap of a woman's bony, spidery hand. 

"Very well. Then I suggest we resume the investigation after the matches are done for the day. Is that alright with you, Soldier?" 

The man thinks for a moment, then gives him a brief nod. "Affirmative. This is... acceptable." When Spy is set on accomplishing something, especially for the good of the team, there's nothing that can stop him. And deep down, Soldier also wants to resolve this as soon as possible, if only to beat up BLUs with a free mind. "Come on, men. We need to prepare for battle." 

To that, Engineer and Spy voice no objection. 

* * *

As far as fights against BLU go, these turn out to follow the usual trend- that of an endless stalemate, disputed under the red hot, unforgiving sun; where the only relief comes in the ability to repeatedly and steadily murder enemies in various creative ways. The confrontation alternates between brutal trips to the respawn point and merciless killing sprees, only ended in a moment of inattention. Another uneventful day of trudging ankle deep in mud, blood and entrails, but a satisfying one for all its participants. Despite its private concerns RED's team carries out its duties without a fault. Round after round, they seem to gain a slight edge over their adversaries, and manage to hold against the aggressive waves thrown at them. 

By the final mission of the day, the tally turns in their favour, which means that that night, they will celebrate, and most important of all, their boss won't yell as much. 

Not about to relieve the pressure until the last bell rings, however, Soldier, Demo and Scout agree on a relentless flank to destabilise the enemy and send a few of their forces to respawn. They spot the bulk of BLU's team, distracted by the direct onslaught of an übercharged RED Heavy, and Soldier aims his rocket launcher directly at them. Scout readies his Scattergun to inflict additional damage in case they somehow survive what's about to hit them. He doubles his pace, running ahead of his teammates, when suddenly, a single shot pierces his ears. It bolts right past him, and lands straight in the middle of Soldier's helmet, blowing the top half of his skull off. His body collapses, upon hitting the ground, the rocket launcher fires in an askew direction, missing its target entirely. 

One who didn't miss, however, is the BLU Sniper who is in the process of reloading his rifle. Demo immediately ducks out of the way with a loud curse, which makes Scout the only remaining viable option to shoot. Fortunately, he notices immediately the Sniper gunning for another headshot, and he makes a beeline for the nearest cover. He reluctantly opts for finding an alternative route out of this bind, unless his own team's Sniper or Spy manage to pull through. Deciding that he refuses to remain a sitting duck, the young man dashes in the opposite way of the main fight. He tries to not dwell on their failed attack, even if he is absolutely boiling inside. That's just the way it goes on the battlefield. 

At the turn of a building, he's welcomed by a salvo of bullets that barely misses him. 

"Stand still, ya douche, this time I will hit you," Scout's BLU counterpart, a few meters away from him, shouts while aiming again. 

Scout rolls his eyes and fires as well. He shouldn't bother with that arrogant prick, but he cannot help it. Of course, he also misses. 

"Ain't got your pink socks today?" the other taunts him. 

"Huh- Hey, lay off! Those were a look and you know it!" Scout replies, running at him and shooting. 

BLU Scout narrowly dodges. "Fair," he concedes, "but I'm still going to bash your ugly head in-" he pulls his weapon's trigger and it clicks. "-oh. Uh." 

Scout grins. "Ran out of luck?" 

"You wish!" he looks to be going for his pistol but immediately darts into the building behind him, in search of ammo.

"Wh- Come back here!" Scout follows suit inside the maze of wooden corridors and stairs cases. 

He comes to a halt when the other's footsteps go silent, and proceeds a bit more carefully, swapping to his own pistol for a quicker draw. Whether that asshole is still in there or not, he prefers being prepared in the off chance that his Spy decides to _pop-in_ unannounced, kill the enemy Scout, and criticise his strategy. Outside, the main battle still rages on. Soldier has respawned by now; his rocket launcher makes short work of some of BLU's men. His team could carry on without him until he's finally put a bullet through his stupid counterpart's stupid head. 

As he moves in discreetly, a loud explosion in the distance shakes him to his core; he almost drops his gun. The square windows are too small and pathetic to let him see anything. He curses internally. 

"What the-" BLU Scout's voice rises barely above a whisper, but he's able to catch it. 

Scout attempts to take him by surprise, only to see him crouched at a healthy distance from a portion of the wall, and highly focused on it, so much that he does not hear the other coming in after him. He's got his bat in one hand. Pistol resting near his hip, Scout takes a few quiet steps towards him to get a better view. 

The object of BLU Scout's attention, a small black box taped to the wall, beeps ominously with a faint green glow. It resembles nothing either of them had ever seen on the battlefield. The crouched Scout is so curious, in fact, that he's ready to prod at it with the tip of his baseball bat. 

"You asshole, don't touch that thing," Scout catches his attention before any contact is made between the mysterious device and the bat. 

"Huh?" 

"MISSION ENDS IN SIXTY SECONDS" the P.A. blares out, startling BLU Scout who ends up poking at the thing anyway. "Oops?" 

Both Scouts look at each other intensely as the beeping increases. The RED one blinks out of his stupor just in time to realise what's about to unfold. "Move! Don't stand in front of it!! ...Shit!!" 

The immediate seconds after he's spoken are a blur. He feels his body move on its own to push the other Scout out of the way, shielding him from the upcoming explosion. He feels his ears ring loudly after the blast, and the pain that cuts sharply through him, and he feels BLU Scout's arms gripping at him tightly. 

Everything around him is muddled into bursts of sounds and colours, but his vision rapidly clears. 

BLU Scout lets go of him, and he collapses on the floor like a ragdoll. He sees the other guy's lips move, say words at him, however it takes a few more seconds for his hearing to adjust. 

"Dude. Dude! You with me?" 

Scout blinks. It hurts to blink. "Y-yeah. How do I look?"

"Honestly? Worse than usual," but BLU Scout's tone is not a joking one, as his revulsed, horrified stare betrays him. 

Scout follows it. 

"MISSION ENDS IN THIRTY SECONDS!" 

And it's a lot to take in. His entire left side is completely mangled into a mess of blood, tissue and bones, with the arm lobbed clean off, a few meters away from him, and shrapnel that have torn through the fabric of his T-shirt and the flesh of his torso. Guts threaten to leak out of the gashes, although he cannot see too clearly, since it's all soaked in dark red. The pain is numbing, and he's losing blood at a moderate pace. It pools steadily beneath him, and seeps into the floorboards. 

"Ah, fuck," he coughs out as he lays half-gibbed. Blood gets caught in his throat. Tastes awful.

The only solution to this situation is respawn. Waiting for a medigun would be a mistake. But they have to be quick. The day is about to end, and with it, the respawn field would be deactivated after a while. 

His thankfully still attached right hand is holding onto his pistol. It takes the remainder of his strength and then some to hand it to the BLU Scout. 

"D'ya mind-" he cannot finish his query, his lungs are burning and speech becomes an insurmountable task. 

The other takes the gun and nods. "Um. Also. Thanks." 

"MISSION ENDS IN TEN SECONDS."

He aims at the forehead for a clean shot. Scout gives him a bloody smirk. He doesn't hear the bang, but feels the bullet burn through his skull. Everything goes black.   
  


When he respawns, Scout's legs give in and he falls to the floor, one hand on his chest. His breathing is absolutely erratic. One look towards the left reassures him, though: his other arm is back in its place. He moves his left hand to make sure it's perfect working order. 

"-an absolute slaughterhouse, no one knows what caused it exactly, our Demo wasn't nearly close enough to send explosives," he hears someone talk, and he catches his bearings to spot Engineer discussing with Medic in one corner of the respawn room. Pyro stands still next to the Texan man, listening in on the conversation, but not contributing much, as usual. None of them have noticed Scout yet. "So their Medic immediately tries to evacuate the Heavy, since he's the least injured, and we're left to send the other victims to respawn. A minute before the mission ends. Lucky, the lot of them."

Scout frowns. 

"Any casualties on our side?" Medic asks. 

Engie shakes his head. "As far as I know, no. I didn't see any of our men caught in that explosion." 

"Not in that one, no," Scout is almost surprised that speaking doesn't cause immense pain to flare up in his entire body. 

The three men promptly turn to him, with Engineer moving first towards him. Pyro follows after him, worried. 

"Son? Are you alright?" he and Pyro both help him up, and walk him over to a bench. Medic soon joins them. 

Scout lets himself be sat down, still a bit weak. Deaths are instantaneous on the battlefield, normally, and respawn does its best to make them seem like a distant memory. However, lying with a broken, busted body and a conscious mind to account for it has left him a trembling mess. He steadies himself before replying. 

"I'm better, now." he guesses. He swats away Medic, who tries to examine him; the former huffs indignantly. "I'm fine! Promise."

"Vhat happened, zhen?" 

"Got caught in a blast because of the BLU Scout. He was proddin' at this little beeping box, like the complete tool he is, then it exploded. Was almost cut in half, and he offed me before I lost all my blood." he explains, and also wishes his teammates would give him space. "Freakin' pathetic.'' he decides to keep for himself the fact he protected his counterpart from the explosion. 

Engineer looks stunned, despite the eyewear and hat obscuring half his face. "You mean, you saw what caused the explosion?" 

"Uh, yeah? Actually, I heard something similar seconds before it went off. Outside." 

"Yeah, that one I witnessed from my sentry nest," Engineer tells him, "it came out of nowhere, mowed half the BLU team in front of our eyes." 

Pyro mumbles underneath his mask. He'd luckily been far enough during the assault to avoid counting amongst the casualties. "Mmmh- rmmmhhmh mph," he adds. 

"That's right. It did not kill any of them instantly. Almost as if it was intent on maiming, rather." 

"Demoman's bombs are powerful enough to kill in one blow," Medic comments, a gloved hand on his chin, "or at least, to gib only upon death." 

"This didn't look like anythin' from Demo." the youngest mercenary casts a downwards look to his lap. "If it wasn't for that idiotic prick, I woulda not messed with it."

Medic gives him an incredulous look. 

They're interrupted by the sound of someone hurriedly rushing towards the room; they turn their attention to its entrance. Spy appears, a hand clamped around the huge metal door's frame. His expression is one of total, measured coolness, but his posture tells another story. He clears his throat. 

"Where is he?" Spy asks, stepping in. Medic doesn't need to ask to know who his teammate is talking about. He moves himself out of the way. The Frenchman gawks at Scout, and in a completely off-character move, immediately goes to kneel in front of him and grab his shoulders. "Are you okay? I heard the other Scout mention that you were blown to pieces, and that he had to mercy kill you-" 

The younger man, who up until now had a hard time processing any of Spy's actions, finally tilts. He pushes the other away from him before he's able to finish talking. "What? Get off me, you douche," he almost spits. "The fuck is wrong with you?!" 

Spy remains mostly unfazed by the outburst. 

"Why do you keep doin' this?! You're getting on my nerves, man!" but Spy doesn't reply anything, so Scout goes on to say, "You wanna patronise me again, that it?!" 

Out of the boy’s field of vision, Engineer discreetly jabs his head towards him. Spy catches the gesture from the corner of his eye. Oh, that is definitely not the context he had imagined. But he'll make the most of it. 

"Hello?!" Scout waves frantically at him. "I'm talking to you, asshole!" 

Spy inhales. "Gentlemen. Would you mind... Leaving the room for a moment, please" he politely requests as he gets back to his feet. He grabs a cigarette. "Scout and I have a brief matter to discuss." 

"Sure thing." Engineer nods and leaves his seat besides Scout. The boy snaps his head to him, confused, before focusing back on the Frenchman. "Take all the time you need, Spook." He signals Pyro and Medic to come with. 

"Good luck," Medic slips discreetly at Spy, with one awkward glance towards Scout. 

As they walk out, Spy is standing right in front of a very upset Scout, still seated, arms now crossed. Engineer hesitates to stay, but he's distracted by the rest of the team heading back towards the lockers in the respawn room. They're all quite loudly commenting on the previous accident on the battlefield. Before they can reach their destination, Engineer blocks them with his small body. 

"Hang on! Not now," 

Demoman looks down at him. "'Ey, what gives? Dunnae stand between me and me booze, lad!" 

"Just a sec. Spy is in there."

"And?" 

"...With Scout?" Engineer modulates his tone to tacitly get his point across. "...You know?"

Demo narrows his single eye as he pieces things together. "...Oh." he briefly turns his head towards Soldier, who just shrugs. Heavy and Sniper prefer not to comment. "Uh... Are yeh sure it's reasonable to-" 

"WHAT?" Scout yells from inside the respawn room. "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDIN' ME?" 

It's immediately followed by the bench crashing into the lockers, which startles all the men not currently in there, then a deaf thud. 

"I was gonna say," Demo remarks in utter disbelief while everyone runs to check in on the commotion. 

Scout has jumped from his initial point to tackle Spy to the ground. He now uses his entire weight to keep him down, one hand strangling the older man, the other about to deck him. The strike never lands, because Heavy pushes past the others to effortlessly lift the boy off the Frenchman. 

"Calm down," Heavy tells the youth now struggling wildly against his grip, to no avail. He's kept firmly against the Russian man's chest by a very strong arm the size of a log. Scout may be very fast, but once he's caught, there is not much he can do.

"Lemme go!!" he shouts nonetheless, "I’m gonna kill him!!" 

Spy, now free, reclines with one arm. His other hand rubs his aching throat. 

"What the Hell is happening, here?" Soldier's voice is louder than Scout's, and Sniper, stationed just behind him, reflexively covers his ears, "You will explain yourself at once, men!" 

"Shut up!" Scout blatantly ignores him, and it visibly enrages Soldier. Heavy remains immobile, "Lemme at him, this sick bastard thinks that because he- my Ma-" he stops right in the middle of his thought, overtaken by sudden feral rage, and the others can only guess what went through his mind, "-that he can call himself my father, like a sick joke or something," 

There's an awkward silence. Glances are exchanged. Spy picks up the cigarette he'd dropped when he was initially lunged at. He wipes it off. Little by little, Scout abandons his fight against Heavy's grip, when he understands no one agrees with him. 

"It- it's a joke, right? He's not _really_ my..." 

They all avert their stares away from him. Even Heavy, who has deemed it safe enough to release him. He lands on his feet, and makes no move to attack Spy. 

"Guys?" he presses, concerned.

Someone coughs. 

"No... no. No. No, can't be happening, that's not true," colours leave his face as the realisation slowly settles in.

"Son, look-" Engineer starts, but Scout is having none of it. 

"Do not- do NOT call me like that," he grabs at the smaller man's overalls, shaking him once, furiously. "You knew, didn't ya? You fuckin' knew and you didn't tell me!!" 

"Scout, please-"

"I trusted YOU, how could you do this t'me?!"

Alerted, Pyro and Medic pry him off Engineer, and Pyro's angry mumbles do not affect him, instead he focuses on the rest of the team, livid. 

"You ALL fuckin' knew, is that it?" his chest tightens, and suddenly breathing becomes unbearable. Nothing is wrong with him, respawn has erased all his injuries, yet he still feels like he is dying. His head turns. He rushes to and doubles over the nearest trash can to throw up into it. Considering his usual diet on working days, his system only rejects an acidic mix of bile and Bonk! Atomic Punch. It burns everything in its wake, only to leave a bitter taste that is nothing in comparison to humiliation he's experiencing. And the sheer betrayal. He drops to his knees, hands locking tightly to the bin as he gets the rest of his stomach content out. "So fucked up..." he lets go, and slouches against the wall. "This is so fucked up..." 

Medic takes a few steps towards him, after letting the others know that he should handle this. However, he's unable to approach the shaking boy. Scout holds his metal bat out defensively. 

"You- you stay the fuck AWAY from me," 

"Scout, please, let me help you, I believe you are having a panic attack," Medic attempts to reason with him. It fails. 

"No! Stay away!" bat still in hand and ready to be swatted at the doctor to keep him away, Scout pushes himself to his feet, not without difficulty, then takes a few wobbly steps towards the exit, his left arm hugging his stomach. His breathing is ragged and loud as he tries to steer himself out of the room without collapsing again. 

"Where do you think you're going, boy?!" Soldier yells at him. 

Scout winces as a reflex, but doesn't turn to him. He simply raises his right hand to flip him off. "Away from you assholes," he lets him know. "And to clean up." 

Everyone else remains silent until he's out of their sight. Spy's lighter clicks and he takes it to the cigarette locked between his teeth. He takes a drag, then says, "Well. That went _way_ better than expected." 

"Yea. Ye keep tellin' yerself that, mate." Sniper mumbles under his breath as he goes to unload his gear. 

* * *

In the RED conference room, the team, sans Scout, watches as the Administrator rubs her temples in a slow motion on the screen. Her frustration is palpable even to the denser mercenaries. No one dares to speak up until she does. 

"I am impressed," her voice is low, raucous, almost like a growl, "Yes. Impressed at you imbeciles' ability to find new ways to give me the most throbbing headaches. I should have you all fired." 

She usually says that a few times during meetings, but this particular iteration of the threat rings just a bit less empty. 

"This is so incredibly stupid. Walk me through it again." 

They look between each other, then Soldier decides to take the lead. "Affirmative," when she glares at him, he squares his back, "Ma'am. Explosives of unknown origin have been planted around the battlefield. Two went off, creating casualties on both sides, but we believe there might be more." 

"And none of those were made by your Demolition Man?" she taps her painted nails impatiently on her desk. 

"Aye, I swear these did not come from me," Demo confirms, "I keep t’the authorised weaponry and bombs only. Honest." 

"Besides, these would have not hurt our Scout, were it the case," Spy adds. He swears. Sometimes this woman merely wants to wring them out as much as possible. 

Helen raises an eyebrow. "Ah yes. The Scout. Where is he?" 

"Indisposed, Ma'am," Soldier replies immediately. 

She inhales some smoke. "Of course. The only key witness is not here. That's fine. I wonder why I even bother with you morons." her chair creaks, "Tell him I want a written report. First thing tomorrow. Or I will dock his pay for the month." 

"Roger."

"As for the rest of you," the Administrator continues, "consider yourselves lucky that I'm able to negotiate with the BLU team's manager at all. Matches are off tomorrow, but since the bombs are planted in your portion of the territory, your Demolition Man will have to remove all of them. It's only fair, right, Mr. DeGroot?" 

Demo wishes he could make her choke on her ashtray. "Aye. It will be done." 

"Perfect. I will send Miss Pauling to oversee. In the meantime, I highly recommend that you all get your shit together. I want to know who is tampering with our affairs and I want them terminated. Understood?" 

"Yes, Ma'am." the men all reply at once. 

"We will keep this hushed for now. MannCo is already busy locating its stolen equipment and I do not need them on my back. Do not disappoint me more than you already have."

And with that, the communication cuts off. As the screen fills with static, the team allows itself to relax.

"Jesus," Engineer sighs, "This sure didn't put her in a great mood." 

"It's prob'ly a good thing we didn't tell 'er about the photos, aye?" Demoman points out as he goes to turn the screen off. 

"Oh, she'll know. Eventually. Whether it comes from us or not. We cannot keep that from her." Spy says, "But I think we can all agree that what matters more is figuring out if this... sabotage, I suppose, is related to last night's intrusion." 

"Affirmative. As long as the culprit is not apprehended, we may face the risk of more interference with our mission." Soldier loathes to imagine taking any more days off than necessary. 

The Frenchman nods to this, then addresses Demo. "Will you be able to retrieve one of those explosives for the investigation ?" 

"Was already planning to do that. I'll see what I can do." 

"Perfect. Sniper, can you keep an eye out from your camper tonight?" 

From where he's seated, the Australian tips his hat. "I'll let you know if anything suspicious happens on my side." 

"Do not hesitate to use your rifle." 

"Got it." 

Pleased, Spy claps once. "Well. Gentlemen, I believe that's all we can do for now." he glances at Soldier. 

"You are all dismissed!" the other announces, and after a collective sigh of relief, the members of RED's team walk out one by one.

Spy is usually the last one to leave, as he likes to make sure everything is in order before doing so. Knowing this, Engineer waits until they're both alone, even whispering to Medic he'll drop by the clinic later. He removes his hardhat, like he always does when being polite or feeling guilty about something. Words don't come naturally to him. 

"I'll be done soon, you can go." with his back turned towards Engineer, Spy inspects the electronics, "I'm only checking for potential bugs or wires." 

"Spook, I... uh... I wanted to apologise." 

The Frenchman lowers his shoulders, "For what? Putting me in the very delicate situation of having to reveal to my estranged son that I am his father?" 

Engie falters. "Yes. I'm sorry." 

"Hm. It's nothing I cannot handle. Now I don't just have to make sure this team isn't sabotaged any further, I also have an angry, moody twenty-three year old that I've tried to avoid for more than a decade on my hands. Perhaps I should add juggling to my list of skills, yes? _Qu'en penses-tu? C'est une bonne idée_?" 

He only switches to brief French sentences in the presence of non French speakers when he is immensely frustrated at them. To think Engineer, of all people, would put him in this state...

"If anything, the bubble is now burst," the Texan senses Spy's obvious sarcasm but tries to dismiss it. "Maybe it'll get easier from now on." 

Spy sighs, quickly pacifying himself. Deep down, he knows the Engineer is not wrong. "I really, really hope so, Laborer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translation - 
> 
> "Allons, Enfants de la Patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé." - as mentioned, these are just the first two lines of the French anthem's (La Marseillaise) first verse. Its meaning is not that relevant, they just use it to recognise each other. 
> 
> La Résistance - The French Resistance 
> 
> mon ami - my friend
> 
> Qu'il est borné. - How stubborn.
> 
> Ah oui. Merci, pour le feu. - Ah yes, thank you for the lighter. 
> 
> De rien - You're welcome
> 
> Qu'en penses-tu? C'est une bonne idée ? - What do you think? Is it a good idea?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A break, where the unexpected happens. Also three professionals throw rocks at a bomb, professionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting a chapter with a cheesy flashback, check- I don't even think the 60k+ monstrosity that sits unfinished on my dashboard even fits that trope
> 
> As for chapter-specific CW, I can only think of is this: WW2 will be mentioned in it, but only things partaking to the French Resistance and France's political situation, as an introduction to Spy's backstory for this fic. 
> 
> Also yeah, headcanon name for Spy in this! I know this is just a fanfic, but I feel the need to express that all of this is non-canon speculation each time; I have no idea why I am so nervous about this!!
> 
> There's one untranslated instance of French, so i'll put the translation in the end notes.

_None of his older brothers could attend, and his mother was working at one of her two jobs. It’s not like they missed anything really, since his team lost against the other school. As far as 4th grade baseball games go, it was a pretty humiliating loss._

_Leaning against the chain-link fence that borders the small baseball field, Jeremy hangs his head low, his bat resting next to him. His cap obscures half of his face. It would be at least a few minutes until his older brother Michael comes to pick him up and get him home. He has homework, but all his thoughts go to the frustration of his team’s defeat. The boy kicks at the dirt angrily. Homework can suck it._

_All his teammates and their parents are gathered near the bleachers, the latters giving their sons encouraging words despite the loss. Michael’s nowhere to be found yet._

_"You'll do better next time", he catches one father saying to his kid, soon followed by, "How about we go for a popsicle, now?"_

_Jeremy sneers, and screws his cap on even tighter._

_"It was a nice game."_

_The small boy startles, and knocks his bat down. A man is leaning on the other side of the fence, just like he is. He's tall, dressed in a way that Jeremy would probably guess to be elegant, were he a bit older to care about those things, and he is smoking. The oddest thing about him is the way his head is slightly turned away, almost as if he didn't want to be looked at. From where he stands, the 4th grader can only see the man's wild, deep brown hair, and maybe the vague shape of a strong nose._

_He doesn't care enough to stare, and finds the scarce grass on the ground more interesting anyway._

_"Whatever. We lost." Jeremy replies._

_Who does that guy think he is anyway?_

_"Losing's part of any competition, really."_

_"No, losing sucks. And it's for losers."_

_The man chuckles. It's deep. Warm._

_"What's so funny?" Jeremy grabs at his bat, ready to climb the fence and throw down with him._

_"Nothing. You're not wrong, that's all."_

_"Of course I'm not! But they'll see, I won't lose ever again!" he swings his bat._

_"That I can believe. You're an excellent player."_

_"Hey, thanks! We still lost, though."_

_"Maybe because you forgot that baseball is a team sport." There's a small pause. The man breathes in some smoke, and makes sure to blow it away from the child. "Being excellent does not matter much, in the end, if you're not able to put your skill to the benefit of your teammates."_

_Jeremy grimaces. "You sound just like the coach."_

_"Because we're both right?"_

_"No, because you're both boring. I don't know," he hesitates, "I shouldn't even talk to you, ma and my big bros always tell me not to talk to strangers."_

_"If that's the case, you're doing a very bad job at it. Not so good at listening, are you?"_

_"You're weird." Jeremy pulls his tongue out at him. The man, of course, doesn't notice._

_"So are you," he replies, then pushes himself off the fence. "I should get going anyway."_

_He doesn't take two steps that the boy calls out after him._

_"Hey wait! Why did you come see the match?"_

_The man stops. "I came to see my son play. I don't get to see him very often."_

_"Does he know you're here?"_

_"Yes. But he's about to head home."_

_From the bleachers, he can hear his brother calling his name, looking for him. Jeremy frowns. Decidedly, that guy is very strange, but he doesn't seem that bad. "Can I at least know your name? Ma says it's not polite to not introduce yourself."_

_The adult turns slightly towards him. "Does she, now?" he takes a moment to think, and it's as if he forgot his own name, "I suppose you can call me Léon."_

_"Léon..." Jeremy repeats, butchering the pronunciation, "Almost sounds like 'lion'. What a weird name."_

_"What's yours?"_

_"I'm Jeremy!"_

_"That is a very nice name." the man sounds almost a bit sad._

_"Right? My Ma said that my Pa chose it!"_

_"I see. Well. I really need to go now. Maybe we will see eachother again some time, Jeremy."_

_“Jeremy!” The boy feels a strong hand clamping around his shoulder, and turns his attention to his clearly worried older brother who simply tells him, “There you are. I’ve told you to stop wanderin’ off and wait for me by the bleachers. You gave me a scare!”_

_“I was just talking to-” Jeremy tries to justify himself, but when he looks back, the man is already gone._

When Scout opens his eyes, light from the early morning sun is bleeding through the blinders. For a brief moment, everything around him looks surreal, he doesn't remember what he was just dreaming about, or even going to bed at all. Sleep clings heavily at him. However, he cannot allow himself the luxury to indulge. 

Matches may be off for the day, but he still had a written assignment. Funny, he took this job in hopes of never doing written assignments ever again. What a drag. 

The young man lifts himself up in a seated position, shifting the blanket around him. With the movement, something gets knocked off him and hits the floor, hard. He peeks over the edge of the bed to see his current sketchbook, then quickly retrieves it, cursing in a low voice. A few pages got folded in the fall. Looking at the latest one, covered in intricate doodles, he finally remembers something about last night. How he locked himself in there, skipped dinner with the others, and aggressively drew in bed for a few hours to let his frustration out. Even when Soldier had come to the door to yell about the report and the threats to his pay, he hadn't deemed necessary to break his concentration to reply to him, even with an insult. 

His stomach starts to ache. There's too much for him to unpack, not that he wants to, so he pushes the whole of it in the back of his mind to hopefully never have to deal with it ever again. He stands up, sketchbook still in hand, then makes his way to his desk. After recharging the typewriter that solely gets used for letters to his mother and brothers, Scout begins to type what he recalls about the incident the day before.

* * *

Demo crouches near two crates, his hand scratching his chin. Behind him, Miss Pauling holds her clipboard close to her chest and clicks her pen nervously. She tries to tiptoe to look at what the Scotsman is observing. Heavy, who has accompanied them for protection, in case the saboteur would show up, silently shakes his head at her.

"Ah, there it is!" Demo exclaims loudly. 

Heavy places a hand on Miss Pauling's shoulder and coaxes her into taking a few steps back with him for safety. 

"What is, Demo? Did you find one of the bombs?" she asks impatiently. They had just started scanning the battlefield, going from the RED base, and they’d slowly make their way towards the BLU one. The Administrator had made sure the BLU mercenaries would be occupied enough for them to not catch a glimpse of Miss Pauling hanging out with the RED ones. 

Demoman reaches for something behind the crates. "Nay, just me whiskey that rolled away during a match yesterday," he replies, to her unending chagrin. This is going to be a long day. "The bomb would be right behind you an' Heavy." 

She startles and the Russian man delicately lifts her away from the dangerous device that they now just notice beeping near them. 

"Yea you'd probably want ta get away from it," he presses himself closer to grab the bottle. His fingers brush against it. Almost there. 

"So, that small thing caused all this damage?" she notes furiously on her paper, and tries to get a schematic of the overall shape of the thing- she wasn’t granted the luxury of a camera for this assignment. For all the trouble these are causing, they look… underwhelming. 

"Nevah judge something on its size, lass, it can always pack quite a punch," finally dislodging the bottle from its hiding spot, Demo realises it's broken in half. He frowns, discards it, then sits down. "The smaller, the easier to hide." 

"Do you know how this works?" 

"Not yet, first time I ever laid me single eye on one of those." 

"And would you be able to figure it out?" 

"A'course," he grins, "Ain't nothin' that blows up I can't figure out!" 

She simply nods to this, and jots down more notes. 

"Ach, I admit that I could've used some of the details from Scout, but the laddie disappeared before I could ask anythin' last night." 

Miss Pauling stops writing. "Oh. Right." she rearranges her glasses that had gone a little crooked on her face. "Hope he's okay." His absence is certainly noted. On any other day he'd be trying to find excuses to hang out. She will not admit to her slight disappointment. But only because Scout would draw much better pictures of the bomb that whatever the hell she’s doing. She squints at the unrecognisable doodles on her clipboard before paying attention to Demo again. 

"Just personal issues," Demo says as he stands up, using the boxes behind him as support. 

"Nothing of concern." Heavy adds, going to help his teammate up. "He will be fine." 

"Well I believe anything that partakes to you all concerns me really but, that is not why I am here for at the moment, so I will not press." 

"There's a good lassie." The Scotsman pats her back when he walks past her to examine the bomb. She frowns a little. "Aight, that is interestin'," he proceeds with unsuspected care , "from the looks o' it, it is activated by contact or pressure. So anythin' can set it off, a bullet, a strike, even a small nudge..." 

Both Pauling and Heavy glance at each other, only imagining the carnage, had they taken a few steps more, because, of course, the respawn field wasn’t currently activated, to prevent any mercenary from ‘working overtime’ while the missions were being rescheduled. 

"And it's discreet enough to be caught in the midst o' battle, as we already seen." 

"Still no idea how it could've ended up here?" she asks, "or all around the terrain, really." 

Sure, they are all pretty distracted while fighting. But an intruder would still be easy to spot. They’d stick out like a sore thumb. The fact they all missed it is worrying, to say the least. 

"Not a clue." Demo shakes his head. He aims his Sticky Launcher at it and places a few stickies around the bomb. "Okay, let's get rid'a that one. Everyone out, gonna blow this bad boy up." 

Miss Pauling widens her eyes in surprise. "Hang on, Demo, are you sure this is a good idea?" 

"Look, this is the fastest way to do't. Have it explode remotely, while we stand safely away. So please follow Heavy out." he explains. "I be joinin' you." 

She nods briefly. He is the expert, after all. Without any further word, they walk outside, towards Heavy, who had picked Sasha up from where he put her. He is scanning around the area ready to shoot at any disturbance. The surroundings remain desperately empty. As soon as he deems everyone out of reach of his explosives, safely hiding behind one of the many big boulders around the place, Demo pulls out his remote and presses its big red button while ushering no warning whatsoever. The stickies go off immediately, triggering the other bomb at the same time. The resulting blast is absolutely deafening, and Miss Pauling uses her clipboard to cover her head in the eventuality of any falling debris. When she blinks one eye open a few seconds later, she notices Heavy has placed a protective arm around her. 

Demo lets out a very professional cheer. Smoke rises out of the windows. 

"Aye, this be an excellent deflagration! If I weren't pissed off about the whole sabotage business, I'd almost want t'congratulate whoever crafted this. Before blowin’ up them ta smithereens, that is." he turns towards the others giddily, "Didya see?" 

Heavy replies in the negative. Miss Pauling pops her head from behind the boulder. "No?" 

"Oh well. Too bad then." he shrugs. "You can both come out now." 

As they step out, she remarks, "We're going to remove all the others in the same fashion, I imagine." 

Demo grins widely. "Lassie, this was s'pposed to be an off day for me, too. Lemme have my fun, b'cause we've only just started and," he holds a hand out at the entire zone in front of them, stretching between the two bases, "we've still got aaaaall of those places ta check!"

Miss Pauling drops her shoulders. "Don't remind me of it." 

"If we catch culprit, we will let you have some time with them before we kill," Heavy reassures her.

"Thank you, Heavy," she replies tiredly. “That means a lot.”

"C'mon, look alive, lads," Demo pumps his fist and trots down the slope towards another building for sweeping. 

Both Heavy and Miss Pauling watch him go. " He's only got one bottle this morning. How can he be so cheerful?" she asks.

Heavy shrugs, unable to give her an answer. 

* * *

For the first time in almost a month, the door to Engineer's workshop is completely shut. It would normally be open, or slightly ajar, a sign that Scout could come in there and spend some time with the Texan. 

After last evening's stunt, this really comes as no surprise to him.

And yet, here he stands, a thermos of coffee in one hand, his written report in the other, just in front of that unwelcoming door. He exhales, bouncing a little in apprehension, then knocks. 

"Engie?" he calls.

A few seconds pass.

"Come back later. I'm busy." 

They're still on speaking terms. That's good. 

"Engie, please. I just want ta talk." 

There's no reply, so Scout attempts to just go in and finds the door unlocked. Upon entering, a lingering smell of cold coffee stabs his nostrils. He grimaces. Pyro, who is in there with Engineer, gets up from his spot to march angrily at Scout, mumbling that he should probably get out of here, fast. The younger mercenary raises his hands. 

"I come in peace, I swear!" Scout exclaims, just as Pyro reaches him to throw him out, "Here! I brought you a drawing of a Dalmatian I made for you, I'm sorry, okay? I’m sorry for yesterday, Py," he slips out the coloured sketch from between the sheets of his report and shows it to Pyro, who snatches it excitedly. 

"Mrrmmh mmhh mhhh!" Pyro thanks him, taking him into a very strong hug that lifts Scout slightly off the ground. The latter’s so light, Pyro has no problem doing that, even if he is smaller. 

"Haha, okay buddy, you're welcome, I'm glad ya like it," Scout uses the hand holding the report to keep his hat in place, "Put me down?" 

Pyro nuzzles him one last time before he obliges, then skips towards Engineer to show him the lovely little drawing of the dog. 

Engie is initially annoyed at the disturbance, but softens up quickly, as he is unable to stay angry at Pyro. "Beautiful, buddy." He pats Pyro's shoulder, and the latter goes to put it up on the wall in his spot, next to other sketches of dogs made by Scout, as well as some of his own colourful art. "I see you bribed my bodyguard." Engineer continues, then freezes when he spots the thermos. "Is... is that coffee?" 

Scout raises an eyebrow. "Uh.... yeah?" 

"For me?" 

"Huh-huh?" Scout only now notices the few empty mugs of coffee lying next to Engineer. And Engineer's drawn-looking face, too. Has he not slept?

" _Lud_ \- The Doc didn't see you coming in with it now, did he?" Engineer inquires in a half hushed voice, giving the entrance to his workshop a discreet look. 

"No, don't think so. I haven't seen him in th'kitchen." 

Engineer nods. "I see." Scout doesn't see him grab the thermos with the gnarly metal claws of his mechanical right hand. He's like a rabid animal. "Give me that." 

The boy winces a little. "Hum. You okay? You look like shit, man." 

"M'fine," Engie lets out between two sips, "Doc just cut off my supply of coffee for the day.” he points to the empty spot where his coffee maker usually lies, now just a sad square shape crowned by a slight layer of dust, ”I swear, the moment I go over five mugs, he freaks out. Rattles my mind, really, considering his general regard for health." 

Scout stares at him blankly. "You been up all night again. He ain’t gonna be happy about it. Hell, I ain’t happy about it."

Engineer groans and gets back to his current working project, thermos still tightly in hand. There's a mini-sentry on the workbench. Well. Half of a mini-sentry. Some of its components are scattered all around it, placed neatly in what looks to be size order, which strikes a stark contrast with the ‘organised mess’ on the rest of the workbench. Dismantling things into smaller pieces is one of the few things he has in common with Medic.

"What are you working on?" 

The shorter man briefly looks at him, then back at the weapon. "Nothin' too big. I was looking to improve the security around the base during the ceasefire. After all that's happened, especially the intrusion, I need to make sure these can protect us," he clinks the thermos against the sentry. "Since these models are not the ones I use on the battlefield, I figured I could tinker with them. I dunno. Add a recording device or something. See how someone can evade their perfect aiming." 

He leans heavily against his station. Everything about him betrays the guilt he's feeling about his gun missing the intruder. That he could do better, despite already surpassing the team's expectations and then some. In moments like these, Scout wishes he were smarter, to find the right thing to say. 

"Engie, you still need t'get some rest. You’re exhausted." is all he can offer. 

The other swats at him. "Don't you worry yourself none. What did you need from me?" 

"Uh, what?" 

"Look kid, I know you've matured quite a bit since you first walked in this base and you made a reasonable move t'come to me, but that look doesn't fool me. So. Whaddya need?" he drinks some more coffee. "Somethin' to do with the paper you're holding?"

Scout scratches the back of his head. "Okay. Ya got me. I did need your help as well- I did come down here to apologise first, I swear! I'm sorry by the way," when Engie cocks an amused smile at him, he continues, "Y'know the boss ordered me to write a report and well. I was wondering if you could look through it like you do with some of my letters? To check the grammar and the mistakes, make sure it can be, y’know, _actually readable_ ," 

"Oh. Sure. Can this wait, though? I didn't lie. I am very busy right now." 

The boy bites his bottom lip. "Th’thing is… If I send it in too late, she'll dock my pay for the month." 

"Sorry, kid. It's either that or you'll need to find someone else. I have to do this." there's obvious regret in his voice, so Scout doesn't take much offense. "Thanks for the coffee." 

Scout nods. "Good luck, Engie." he says as he directs himself to the exit. Engineer immediately gets back to work, as if he had never taken a break in the first place. Pyro waves widely at Scout before he goes out. 

In the hallway, he sighs, and decides to call his mother to give her the bad news about the money. 

* * *

"Alright, I agree, this is very fun!" Miss Pauling almost yells in pure joy as she aims the Sticky Launcher at one of the many bombs they had already found. And she didn't have to do it properly, even. Just place a few stickies and duck for cover. 

She runs towards Demo and Heavy, then sets the whole thing off. It all goes in a huge explosion. They all cheer as the flames rise high into the midday sky. A few barrels explode too, for good measure. 

"Is Heavy's turn, now," the Russian man states as he locates his target. They’re about halfway through the terrain, at this point. 

"How about we throw rocks at the next one t'see who hits it first?" Demo suggests to the other two. "The winner gets ta... gets ta use a grenade next!" The three of them ponder the proposition then come to a mutual, enthusiastic agreement.

They go pick a few rocks lying around and position themselves behind a few crates. Demo gives a nod of approval and throws the first one. His impaired depth perception does not help him. 

"Bloody hell,"

"There are so many of these lying around," Miss Pauling's projectile falls short and she frowns, "I wonder if we'll be done by the end of the day." 

"Oh we will, we're making quite a headway, methinks," the Scotsman tells her confidently, "this place will soon be clean ta get blown up by our own weapons instead." 

Heavy tosses one of his stones and misses. His expression does not change. Instead, he gets up and walks away.

Demo gets ready to try again. "That does remind me, I needa get one of those." He fails again. “Gotta see what makes them tick.”

"Oh, yes. That would be ideal." Miss Pauling agrees. She does fare a little better this time, but doesn't quite reach the bomb. "How are you going to proceed?" 

"No idea yet" The Scotsman rubs his chin, eyes narrowed at the small box a few meters away from them, "Those things look all flimsy and-" 

There's a loud yell, followed by a couple of heavy strides that make the ground tremble around them, with small pebbles jumping in rhythm to the pounding. Demoman and Miss Pauling gasp almost at the same time just as Heavy comes into view, an enormous boulder hauled above his head. With another shout, he hurls it towards the bomb. It doesn't catch much air, mostly due to its weight and size, and it crashes, before rolling the rest of its way to the explosive. Once it hits its target, it stays there. The three of them wait for an explosion that never comes. 

Miss Pauling rearranges her glasses. "Uh..." 

"That's it! It's like some sorta land mine!" Demo exclaims as he slaps his forehead, "Me brains must be scrambled."

"Which means..." she tries to follow. 

"If ye keep applyin' the same amount o' pressure on it, it won't kablooie. Basic'ly... Hopefully." 

"I doubt this is safe." she rightfully points out. But then again, this entire assignment has been the farthest thing from safe. 

"It certainly is anythin' BUT that." 

"You know what, I'll take it. I'll take any bit of excitement we can squeeze out of this." 

Demoman gives her a very eager grin. "That's what I like ta hear. But first," he tosses his Grenade Launcher at Heavy, "Here ye go, big man, ye earned it," 

Heavy catches the weapon and aims it. "Thank you, Demolition Man." After shooting a grenade, he immediately grabs the two others under each arm and runs away from the explosion.

* * *

All that noise outside makes it impossible to appreciate a good read in peace. Even from the confines of his smoke room, Spy can hear the ruckus Demoman is causing over on the battlefield field, and so he has begrudgingly discarded his copy of Albert Camus' _La Peste_ on the small round wooden table next to him for the benefit of a glass of Cognac. He rubs his forehead thoroughly. 

There's no way he is even going to be able to hear his own thoughts like this. 

Perhaps a more constructive use of his time would be finding a way to continue the investigation while he waits for the mine-clearing team to come back. Someone is bound to have some insight to share with him. This entire situation plagues his mind continually, when he isn't focusing on his work. The Gravel War they're fighting might be weird, but it's also a very dull conflict, and Spy fails to grasp why anyone would even want to meddle with it. 

He locks the door carefully behind him, then walks towards the common room. On his way there, Spy spots Scout talking on one of the phones in the hallway, and backs up against the wall as a reflex to keep out of the youth's sight. 

"Yeah, talk t'ya soon, Ma. Love ya." Scout hangs up, letting his fingers linger on the receiver. 

Spy raises his watch, intent on activating his cloak to avoid any contact with the boy. The latter curses softly and slides against the wall into a seated position on the ground. He folds his knees up to his chest, defeat written all over his face, which is subsequently obscured by his arms. The Frenchman man rolls his eyes. He's going to regret this. 

Like any interaction with Scout he ever has. 

He lowers his arm and silently approaches. The other doesn't notice him right away, so he makes himself known by first clearing his throat, then saying, "I didn't know you could use one of those." he points to the landline with a slight, somewhat good-natured smile.

Scout side glares at him for a few seconds, then disregards him. "Fuck off." The last thing he needs is snark from Spy. 

Spy lets out an inaudible sigh. "Can I at least know what's troubling you?" 

"I said fuck off, are ya deaf? Got nothin' t’say to you." 

Normally, that'd be Spy's cue to give up and leave, but that's the thing. He always leaves. Or picks a fight. This time, he tries to do neither and just waits patiently, curious as to what would happen with this third choice. Scout lifts his head again, visibly puzzled at what's happening. That's a first, Spy isn't insulting him or baiting him into physical confrontation. 

"I was... on the phone with my Ma." 

_Oh._

"Th'boss asked for a report and I'm gonna hafta hand it in late, so she's gonna cut my pay, and that means, the amount of money I can send to my Ma." 

"I see. Did you not write it?" Spy inquires. That would not be much of a surprise. 

"Nah, I- I did," he produces a small white paper rectangle he unfolds into two whole sheets, "It's just- I can't write well, I have a hard time wit' words, uh, readin’ and spellin' n shit, sometimes it's hard t'read what I write, y'know? Scratch that, it’s hard t’read all the time. And the boss lady, man, she gets real pissed at me for that," seeing Spy is still listening to him without making any remark, he continues, "So I always ask Engie to look over, but he's busy right now. And I kinda... flipped all of ya off yesterday so I dunno who to ask for help." 

It would be so easy to dismiss Scout. To leave him to his own devices. To just tell him 'Well, that sucks for you, see you later,' and carry on his merry way. But seeing him like this, actually concerned by something that's beyond him, especially for the sake of his mother, Spy feels a faint guilt at the idea of not offering any kind of assistance. He lights a cigarette first. 

"I can help." 

"Huh, wh- Spy. C'mon. English ain't even your first language." 

"And yet I speak it better than you do."

 _Touché._ Scout grimaces. He puts up a weak front. "Why would I want help from... from you?" 

"Because you need it?" he can do this all day. Scout's pitiful repartee will run out at some point. 

They stare at each other. Spy is unimpressed by this demonstration. The boy's 23 and still acts like a teenager. Ridiculous.

"Alright. Here." he hands the sheets of paper, not moving from his spot. 

Spy takes them. "Okay. Thanks. Now come." he beckons the younger man to get up. 

Scout blinks at him and starts to fidget a little. 

"Come? You mean come... with you?" 

" _Non, avec le Pape_." he sighs again, cigarette hanging from his mouth. "Yes, with me, Scout."

"But why?" 

"I will need to consult you, and I also don't wish to run after you when I am done correcting your report," he explains, beginning to get a little exasperated at all this resistance. Although, to be honest, he would know where to find that stupid son of his, and it would be right next to Miss Pauling, bothering her while she works, or putting himself in the middle of Demoman’s delicate task. Spy will not let that happen. "The more you discuss, the more time you're wasting." 

Scout jumps to his feet, disgruntled. "Ya win. Let's go. But lemme make this clear, asshole. I'm doing this for my Ma." 

"Good," Spy tells him. "So am I." 

  
  


They settle down in the common room, on the square table used for chess games. The explosions have quieted down for a while, which is good, because some of Scout's writing is indeed slightly hard to decipher. And coded languages are supposedly no problem for Spy. Scout bounces one of his legs, but his chair is far enough from the table that it doesn't make it shake. He tries to look at anything but Spy's concerned reading face. 

"C'mon, it can't be that bad," he groans. 

The Frenchman strikes a word with his pencil and replaces it with a more correct term, mouthing the entire sentence to see if it makes sense. 

"I was actually expecting something much worse," the older mercenary says in all honesty. "So no, it isn't that bad, but in this state it will certainly give a headache to the Administrator. It surely is giving me one right now." 

Scout gives the statement a noncommittal hum. 

"I have to say, I'm impressed by the effort you put in the description of the events." 

"Uh... Thanks, I guess." Scout tips his seat a bit. He really doesn't want to remember any of this more than he has to. Thinking of the half minute he's stayed alive and completely maimed sticks to his mind like his athletic tape now sticks to his clammy palms. Scout realises he's started to shiver. Shit.

Looking briefly at Spy, who has fallen again into deep concentration, he catches himself before he says anything. There's no way he could tell Spy about how the sabotage is affecting him. First that’d make him look weak. Second, Spy never has anything reassuring or comforting to say. So he decides not to, and to stop himself from shaking before it gets too noticeable. 

"What's that?" The Frenchman's voice makes him jump, but the former still has his eyes screwed on the text. He slides one sheet towards Scout, the butt of the pencil tapping a particular word. "Manege? What do you mean by that?" 

"Oh, hum. 'Manage', I think? Yeah, here, I manage to get his attention. 'M talkin' 'bout the BLU Scout." _that douchebag_ , he doesn't add.

Spy nods and writes it down. "I was confused for a moment. It looked like a French word." 

"Yeah?" Scout smirks, welcoming any kind of distraction from his previous thoughts. "Maybe it was? Who knows, maybe I know French, how 'bout that?" 

"I highly doubt it. _Manège_ in French means merry-go-round. Hardly fitting for your rather morbid report." 

Scout chuckles. It's forced. "Right."

So, it's really happening, then. Spy and him are having a rather casual conversation, without throwing insults at each other. Hell, Spy hasn't even dissed his report yet, instead he's giving Scout fair feedback about what he wrote, chaotic as it may be. It vaguely reminds him of the times when he was a kid, and his Ma or eldest brother Paddy would go over his homework on the table in the kitchen, during the evenings, to make sure everything was done and understood; they’d have the same look of focus as Spy while reading carefully what he had written. 

The ache he felt in his stomach earlier flares up again. 

"Man, French is so weird." he tries to ignore it.

"A statement I cannot entirely refute," Spy replies, no trace of frustration in his voice. There’s no getting under his skin at the moment, is there? This is so weird. 

"When'd ya learn t'speak English anyway?" 

The other seems able to discuss while reading the rest of the report. "During the War." 

His answer is brief, meant to be taken as a passing mention by his interlocutor, who obviously doesn't. Spy never tells anything about himself. Scout's mouth hangs open while his mind races to find something to say.

"Close your mouth," Spy tells him without looking at him. 

"Sorry, uh, it's just. The War... THE War?" The boy's tone emphasises his astonishment. 

The Frenchman smiles, amused at the reaction he’s getting. "Yes? Which War are you thinking about, Scout?- Ah, no this is not the right word to use," he shifts his focus to the correction for a moment. He's almost done. 

Scout has never cared much about his colleagues' ages other than the fact that they were all older than him. Even Pyro, who is admittedly more mysterious than Spy in various ways, confirmed he had a handful of years over the Bostonian. Come to think of it, if the Frenchman is his fath- he shakes his head at the thought, it places in the age range to have participated in... 

"World War 2?" 

"Oh, yes then, that's correct." 

Scout gawks at him. This time, Spy averts his eyes to him. "What?" 

"You... Hang on- Are ya tellin' me... That you fought in freakin' WW2?!" 

"Is it that unbelievable." Spy shifts in his seat, and crosses his legs. He gets back to the last paragraph of the paper.

"But I thought- I thought that France like, surrendered right away, like at th'start, and didn't do nothin'," he explains to a very unimpressed Frenchman, "At least that's what they told us in class," 

"Hmmm... Beyond the fact that I’m mildly surprised that you remember some things from school, I can tell you that it was much more complicated than that."

"How so?" 

Spy finishes up his correction before answering. "You really want to know?" 

"Hell yeah I do," Scout insists, "You can't just drop on me that you were in WW2 n' not give me the deets," 

The older man seems to hesitate for an instant. 

"While I cannot 'give you the deets', as you put it, I can explain France's situation during the War, yes." 

He turns one of the sheets over and starts to draw a rough hexagonal shape on it with the pencil. The boy scoots his chair closer to the table to see. It makes a screeching noise, but that doesn't deter the Frenchman who has now struck a circular line that separates the form in two. 

"When we lost in 1940, our country was divided in two parts." Spy shows both of them to Scout. "The North was occupied by Germany and the South... well. It was designated as ‘free’ to a certain extent, under the rule of a newly appointed government, we called it _le Régime de Vichy_ , or Vichy France." 

"Where's Paris in all this?" Scout asks because it's the only French city he knows about. 

Spy lowers his eyebrows. He can't blame the boy. "Here." He points to it. It's in the Northern portion. "It was occupied." 

"Oh. Damn. Harsh. That where you lived?" 

There's no response, so Scout risks another look at Spy. Maybe this will remain unanswered, since it's probably more than the Frenchman would ever share about himself. Especially to someone like him.

"No," he however replies. "I'm from here." he draws a dot in Vichy France. 

"What's that place called?" 

"...Lyon." 

"Another weird French name." Scout snorts. "Can't you say 'lion' like normal people?" Odd. Something feels familiar when he says that. He dismisses it, "So uh... because you were in that free zone, you could fight?"

"Not exactly. Have you not heard of _La Résistance_?" 

The boy frowns. "Come again?" 

It's very hard for Spy to resist the urge to roll his eyes loudly at this. "What do they even teach you," he mutters under his breath, "Look, we may have been defeated, but a lot of people didn't stop the fight." 

The pencil glides over the rudimentary map of France, circling a few zones. 

"Small cells of people rose up against the occupation. Fighters, journalists, philosophers, writers- they all didn't accept the situation. They provided intelligence, information and supplies, thus playing a major role in the conflict. That is _La Résistance_." Spy explains his scribbles, while adding more scribbles to them. Scout simply listens, which is highly unusual. "And they were not even trained, a lot of them were just civilians with something to fight for. They improvised themselves agents for the time of the conflict, but some of them remained in the secret services even after it was over." he indirectly refers to himself. 

Admittedly, he does not regard any of this with fondness. Those counted amongst some of the worst years of his life, if not the actual worst. But he would lie if he said he didn't feel a little bit of pride in teaching an ignorant American youth about this important point of his country's modern history. In a totally assumed arrogant way. 

"So you were part of all that," the boy says. 

"Indeed." 

If this exchange with Scout went exactly like normal, which it hasn't at all so far, that would be the time for the young man to say something stupid or insulting. 

Thus Spy almost doesn't believe it when he hears the other say, "Huh! Cool. Anythin' else you can tell me 'bout or is it all continental?"

"You mean confidential." Spy corrects him. 

"Yeah, that." 

"I could tell you more," he stops to look at the mess he's made on the page, "It looks like I got carried away on your report. I apologise. I did not mean to write all over the back."

"Oh, 'sfine. I needa retype it anyway. I can go do that after you're done." 

Spy doesn't expect any thanks for the service, but this strange, relaxed moment they're having can count as some sort of weird reward. "Alright. Let's take it from the start."

* * *

“These wee boxes look so unthreatening when they’re off! Don’t ye think?” 

Deactivated bomb in hand, Demo escorts both Miss Pauling and Heavy towards the base. Both of them have still not yet recovered from the tension that came with defusing the explosive, even if the Scotsman did the entire job by himself, sweating bullets while the others stayed at a very safe distance. Through sheer expertise, and probably a bit of luck, the device was deactivated, and they’d all decided to take a break. 

“Please do not wave it around,” Miss Pauling breathes out, her eyes locked on the thing. 

“‘Ey, it’s completely safe, I tell ye,” Demo tells her, “But I can turn it back on so ye can see th’difference? I’m th’one s’pposed to have impaired vision,” he mumbles. 

His two companions jump back. 

The young woman shakes her head. “No, no, no, that will not be necessary, I believe you, sorry.” She raises placating hands. 

Demo roars with sudden laughter. “I be jokin, lass,” he lets them in, “Not sure how t’turn it back on yet, anyway. No matter, I’ll be dissectin’ it as soon as I get to me lab.” 

For a day off, the premises sound eerily silent. No one’s there to greet them, or just passing by. No voice rises up from one end of the hallway, and the distant tinkering of Engie’s work, that had become an almost comforting background noise to the other mercenaries, sounds absent, despite being there. Miss Pauling glances around. Even during the week ends, the place was more lively, as she recalls from the few times she had to visit; the most notorious one being that mutated bread incident which still left her slightly confused. 

Something finally catches her attention, as she follows behind Demo and Heavy further inside. One of the doors to the common room, held open, allows her to vaguely peer inside, and she makes out two silhouettes. She needs to doubletake when she realises that she’s staring at the backs of Spy and Scout, seated down and in the midst of a conversation. Or rather, the older of the two is talking while the other listens intently to him. 

_“ ...so the general Charles de Gaulles then asks Jean Moulin to go back to France and unify the different resisting groups…”_ Miss Pauling hears Spy tell Scout, then loses the thread of the conversation, as it does not interest her at all. 

This surprises her so much, however, that she has to stop. Heavy pauses, intrigued by what he’s seeing as well. 

“Demo, Heavy…” she speaks up, still staring.  
  
Demo stops in his tracks. “What is it?” 

“S-since when Spy and Scout are able to hang around each other without fighting?” 

The Scottish man frowns, then immediately takes a few steps back to get a visual on the two men. He blinks wildly with his one eye, as if he had just caught something in it. Even Heavy looks dumbstruck. 

“Well. I’ll be…” Demo starts, but doesn’t finish. This is too strange to even comment upon. 

“I never thought this would be possible.”

“Did ye need something from them?” he glances down at her. 

She purses her lips. This level of focus coming from Scout unnerves her greatly, but bothering them strikes her as particularly distasteful, for some reason. “... No. Not for now. Let’s go.” 

Demo nods. “Aye. This way, then.” He resumes leading them down to his lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translation -
> 
> "Non, avec le Pape" - No, with the Pope. Just a little sbarky remark at Scout's obvious inquiry. 
> 
> Oh, as a last note. Chapter 4 has been a small challenge to write, so I have decided to cut it in half. Normally, this should mean that there will be an update next Sunday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second act starts with the lights going out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for this chapter:
> 
> -descriptions of violence and injuries
> 
> Also, I would like to express my gratitude to all of you for the feedback this story has got in the past week. The fanart, comments, support and interest mean SO MUCH to me and they're all super motivating to continue posting this silly story on the internet ;; This just keeps me going, you know??? Thank you so so so so so so much everyone, you are all absolutely amazing!! ;_; <3<3<3<3 Hope you keep enjoying this fic as it goes along!!

Being wedged between a dispenser and the brick wall of Engineer’s workshop, his invisibility cloak turned on, doesn’t count amongst Spy’s favourite ways to spend a Saturday evening. In fact; it should have never made its way on this imaginary list he’s made up. However, Engie had insisted that he’d stay hidden while Scout was visiting him. Why he keeps letting the Texan man meddle with his personal matters, he has no idea, but Spy figured he could humour him just this once, if only to be left alone afterwards. True, they had suffered no more sabotage for the rest of the week after Demoman had cleared the terrain. A brief reprieve he’s certain everyone in the team is thankful for. Still. The situation is not resolved and Spy would rather focus on that instead of having to deal with personal matters pertaining to his failed attempts at having a family life. Priorities. A simple matter of priorities. 

He couldn’t even smoke, lest he’d give away his position, and ruin this whole charade as a consequence, something Engineer would never forgive him for. A stinging headache is already creeping up at the back of his skull. 

Scout talks… a lot. That, the Frenchman was already aware of, but the output of words flowing from his very scrawny son seems to double in the presence of the Engineer. And, interestingly enough, their depth, too. The boy doesn’t spout as much nonsense when addressing the inventor. 

“I don’t know. It was really weird, okay.” Scout paces back and forth a little, “We just talked, he told me a bit about himself. Like, did you know that he is not from Paris? I thought all French were from there. Turns out there’s a buncha other French cities.” 

Spy lowers his eyebrows in disbelief. Previous thought revised. But he appreciates that Scout isn’t sharing more precise information about him. There might be some hope for this boy yet. 

“No, I did not know. What happened next?” Engineer leans against his workbench, arms crossed. Spy can only see him slightly from the back. 

“Nothing!” Scout is more puzzled than anything. “Absolutely nothin’. He gave me my report back, and I went t’retype it. Oh well. Yeah. I did catch Miss P before she left to hand her the corrected version. Without. All the... doodles. On the back.”

“Well. That sounds good to me.”

“You don’t understand, man. Everything went normal! Like, that is NEVER the case when I talk ta him!”

“Are you sure you’re not overthinkin’?” 

At that statement, Spy almost chuckles, because to overthink, Scout would need to be able to think, first. He frowns. Oddly, that internal jeering doesn’t feel as good as the other times he does it. 

“I-I’m not! I just…” the youth’s voice dissolves into nothing. 

“Listen. I get that this must be a lot.”

“A lot?! ‘S'like a complete 180, man! And-,” he stops again, mouth twisting, hand darting to his stomach. He doesn't resume his rant, instead holding his midsection with a pained frown, which, Spy admits, is concerning. 

There seems to be something bothering Scout, but the boy doesn’t allow himself to voice it. Spy hopes the Texan can work his magic.

Engineer walks towards him, worried. "Son-" he catches himself, "Sorry. Scout. Are you alright?" 

Scout turns a wide stare at him. "Huh? I'm okay." 

"Are you certain?" Engie insists a bit, sensing that Scout isn't being exactly straightforward with him. Even Spy can sense it, from where he’s observing. 

"I swear. 'S all good.” he straightens up, ignoring the pain, “Engie?" 

"Yes?" 

"What I said a few days ago- Uh. What I mean is-" Scout stumbles, and his cheeks gets red, "You can call me son. I-I don't actually mind it." 

To this, Engineer doesn't know quite how to respond. It is not unwelcome, but considering who is standing behind his dispenser at this precise instant… 

"I-I like it. When you call me… that." Scout crosses his arms, eyes averted away from the shorter man in front of him. 

"Well." 

"Just- I used t'think you were just a nerd at first, but you're the only one who listens ta me and like, takes me seriously?" the other goes on to explain, "Without judgin' me, or anythin' like that, I know the others they just- they think I'm unreliable, and loud, but that's because they're jealous, obviously, they just roll their eyes or ignore me, 'specially Spy, which makes it all weird now, but you've still helped me a lot, even if I know that I get on ya nerves sometimes, and so, uh… thanks, I guess?" 

Engineer smiles, lifting a hand towards him. "That's alright. I got the message. Wouldn’t want you to lose your breath there, kiddo. That’d just not be right, for a runner like you." he chuckles at his own remark. 

"You don't think it's weird?" 

"Not at all. I'm humbled that you've come to think of me like this.” he’s never thought of having kids of his own, but he can deal with this. Being a father figure to someone, since some will not take that responsibility. 

Scout scratches the back of his neck, a mix of embarrassment and relief clear on his face. Spy studies it. He's never seen Scout in such a state. 

“That said, you're aware that if there's anythin' sloshing about in that thick skull of yours that's botherin' you, you can tell me, right?" he punctuates this with a playful knock against Scout's right temple, and the boy dodges, lips tugging upwards. 

"Y-yeah, right. Ya got it," not entirely certain what the Engineer might be referring to. Or maybe he is but doesn't want to acknowledge it. “Thanks.” 

“It’s nothi-” Engineer is cut by Scout suddenly taking him in a tight embrace after an intense inner debate about if he should do so. That was highly unexpected; even Spy blinks at it. The older man wraps his arms around the boy in response, with a few pats on his back. While Scout is distracted, Engineer gives a quick look towards Spy’s current position. A meaningful look. One that almost crushes him with the implications. 

_Okay, Laborer, you’ve made your point. What do you want me to do about this?_ he asks internally, as if the other could somehow read his mind or his unseen expression. 

As he contemplates a swift escape route because he deems having seen enough already, the lights go out. Darkness engulfs the entire workshop, and Spy ducks behind the deactivated dispenser before his cloak runs out now that its steady supply of energy has shut off. Not that either of the two other men present would see him, anyway. 

“Oh, what NOW?” Engineer lets out, barely louder than his usual tone, addressing no one in particular. He pulls away from Scout but keeps his hands on the latter’s shoulders, “Don’t worry, the backup generator should-” 

With a loud whirr, red LEDs switch on, indicating that the base is running on auxiliary power. Most of it is redirected to only the essential circuits. 

“Wow,” Scout says, slightly awed by how sinister the place he’s lived in for almost two years looks with the dim red lights. 

“Been a while since it happened, huh?” Engineer goes to grab his flashlight. “Come on, let’s go see what the problem is.” 

When he hears the door to the workshop close, Spy decides to wait a few minutes before joining them, just in case. 

* * *

“There’s nothing wrong.” Engineer concludes after removing his flashlight from between his teeth. 

The main electrical panel laid open in front of him, its innards visible for everyone to see. He backs up to take them all in. Scout, but also Soldier and Spy, who had joined them after a while, follow him with their eyes. 

“What do you mean?” the youngest of them asks, growing tenser by the minute. Those red lights are really unnerving him, as is his father's presence. They both have been avoiding each other since the report. Spy does his best to stand as far as he can from the boy, for their sakes and comfort. 

“Of course there’s something wrong,” Soldier cuts in. He gestures at the surroundings, a muddled soup of red tints that makes it difficult to discern anything. “Everything is wrong,” 

Engineer exhales. “I get that. I meant, there’s nothing wrong with the circuits. They’ve not been tampered with, as far as I can see.” he scratches his nape. 

“So this has nothing to do with the sabotage?” 

"Actually, it can't be for certain." Engineer tells Soldier, and goes on to close the panel, "Since there might be something going on with the source that provides us." 

It'd be easy to check, were they staying at the base literally named after the building that supplies it with power, but this month, both teams battled on one of the grounds nearest to Teufort, thus they had to rely on the power plant next to the small town for electricity. If the metaphorical faucet is switched off there, the premises automatically suffer the consequences. Sadly, Engineer knows the extent of the Teufortians' handiness, and that means he has to take the matter into his own hands. 

Spy perks up. "You suspect a problem at the power plant?" 

"Precisely. There's no other explanation otherwise, everything is in perfect order." 

"Fair judgement, as always" the Frenchman says, "then I suggest we depart right away. We cannot afford to leave the base with minimum defences, especially if it is yet another stage of this ridiculous sabotage campaign against us." 

"Let’s warn the others first." Engineer lets him know, then immediately steps out of the small room. 

The rest of the team is gathered outside in the corridor, more or less armed. Even Sniper left his camper, equipped with his SMG, to regroup with his colleagues as soon as he saw the base go completely dark. They all turn expectant stares in the vague direction of Engineer's stout silhouette.

"So?" Medic speaks up, "Vhat is wrong?" 

"Here? Nothing." Engineer replies, and holds a hand up when he feels Demo about to voice a remark, "but there might be an issue higher up."

"We're sending a small team to check," Spy adds as he walks out with Soldier and Scout. He addresses the Texan man. "Who do you surmise should go?" 

"Obviously, I have to," Engie puts a hand to his chest, "And since this shapes up to be more of a stealth mission, I might need your help."

"Of course," Spy nods.

"Scout." Engineer says without looking at him.

The boy, who had not been paying too much attention since he’d left the small technical room with the others, jumps slightly when his name is mentioned. 

"Uh? What?" 

"You're coming too." 

"Aw, man." 

Spy is thankful for the obscured visibility because no one is able to notice his slight dismay at the decision. No matter how justified it is. He'd hoped to avoid Scout as much as possible while he figured out their personal situation, and the sentiment is probably shared with his son. Actually, he’s also making a point of dodging out of any possible near-future conversation Engineer might want to have about what occurred in the workshop earlier, as well. 

"...And Soldier. We will require your fighting skills if things go South." 

Said mercenary squares up and executes a dutiful salute. "Affirmative!" he exclaims. 

"This is still a stealth mission, partner." Engineer reminds him. 

"Affirmative," he repeats, this time in a very hushed voice, he adds a small “Sorry” for good measure. Good enough. 

"Y'all hold the fort while we're gone." Engie tells the others. 

He gives Medic's arm a sincere squeeze, and that's the most he'll allow himself when they're not alone. The doctor doesn't need words to understand the concern and care behind the gesture. 

" _Sehr gut_ ," he lets out, his stare not on his partner, but burning holes into the three mercenaries that will accompany him, and they don't need to see his eyes clearly to know that they might wake up with foreign organs sewn inside them if anything were to happen to the Engineer. Or worse. "Ve shall keep an eye out for intruders, and if any should turn up…” he holds his Bonesaw up with a malicious grin, “velcome zhem accordingly.” 

“Ye got that right, Doc!” Demoman blurts out, not caring about remaining discreet whatsoever, "I hope they come! I been waiting to get a word with those mongrels! And by word I mean me fist. In their bloody faces." 

Although unspoken, all the other mercs share his opinion. They're all ready for what's to come. 

Engineer sure appreciates the Scottish man's enthusiasm. "That's the spirit, partner. Well. The backup generator should last you for at least a few hours but remember, some security measures have been turned off." Like the new sentries, and this adds to his suspicion about a new sabotage attack. "We will try to be quick; we'll take the van, the radio should still be working." 

"Aye," Demo gives a thumbs up, "okay, everyone who stays on base, after me, to the mess hall. Let’s strategise." 

"Stay safe, y'all." Engineer simply says. He does his best to hide the slight worry that rises in him. 

"You too." Medic replies, before leaving with the rest. 

When the others are gone, the Texan starts up towards the garage, a simple hand gesture to coax the three men still with him into following. Scout sticks very close behind. 

"Awright, I call-"

"Shotgun," Spy interrupts him as he walks past the both of them, an unseen smug grin on his face. 

Scout glares at the back of Spy’s stupid masked head. "Looks like we're both ridin' in the back, Solly." 

The other ignores him. Apart from Engineer and Pyro, and to a certain extent, Spy, most members of the team were still put off by the boy's outburst earlier in the week, Soldier especially. If it had not affected Scout’s work as much, his relationship with his coworkers outside of battle had reached a new low point; something Scout did not know how to handle quite well. Too proud to make the first step, he huffs.

"Woo... barrels of fun, here. I see." the boy mumbles under his breath. 

Engineer pushes the heavy door to the garage. "This is not supposed to be fun, son. Focus." he says, taking the words Spy was about to say right out of his mouth, minus the name.

The Frenchman raises his eyebrows. So that's how it is.

* * *

It takes them approximately twenty minutes to reach their destination by car, during which none of them make any remark, mostly due to the general unease hanging around them. Engineer parks the van at a safe distance from the place, partly hidden by some boulders. The chill night air infiltrates the vehicle as soon as he opens the door on his side. Upon being hit with the difference of temperature, the short man grimaces. 

"Scout, pass me over the bag next to you," he holds a hand towards the back, waiting for the object in question, laid between the boy and Soldier.

"Oh." Scout unglues his face from the window that he had been staring out of during the entire ride. It leaves a misty imprint on the glass. "Yeah sure. Here." he gives the duffel bag to Engie. When it's done, the Bostonian rearranges his hat and headset. 

Engineer takes out four flashlights from it and passes one to each of his companions. Then, he digs out two walkie talkies. The first is handed to Soldier, while he keeps the other. "Spy and I will go inside and locate the power supply room. Soldier, you'll get in as well, and sweep the place. Cover our backs. Try to not kill anyone if it's not necessary." 

"Roger." 

"Wait. What 'bout me?" Scout speaks up before Engineer has the chance to say anything. 

Leaning against his seat, Spy sighs.

"I was getting to it," the Texan tells him. "You'll stay outside for the most part." 

At this, Spy jolts up, and lets out at the same time as Scout, "Alone?" 

They refuse to look at each other out of embarrassment. Soldier shakes his head. 

"Near the car! To man the radio, just in case somethin' happens at the base, we'll need to know," 

Scout looks unconvinced, because his current task goes against what he’s trained for. "Sure. I can do that, I guess." 

"And you'll be able to warn us if anything comes up." 

"Y'mean like right now?" 

"What?" Engie lets out, and the boy points to the lights of an upcoming car that soon illuminate the entire interior of their van. The four of them duck down immediately. "Darn," 

"Think they saw us?" Scout whispers. 

"No, _of course not_ ," Spy replies with obvious sarcasm, and his son flips him off, "Let me just-" 

He turns on his cloak to be able to peer out of the window unnoticed. A van just like theirs, except branded with the BLU logo, stops right next to them. This does not surprise him in the least; the power plant supplies the enemy base as well. 

"-it's BLU. It looks like they’ve had the same idea as us." 

"Really?" Engineer risks a glance. A tall silhouette walks up to the passenger door and knocks on it. 

After becoming visible again, Spy opens the door to his counterpart. 

"Pardon me for interrupting your little... meeting," BLU Spy says apologetically, eyes narrowing to make out the shapes of the three men next to Spy currently almost face down to the ground, "But it seems to me that you've encountered a blackout as well?" 

"And what makes you say that, BLU scum? How would you know about it??" Soldier props himself up, startling Scout next to him, body tense with the intent to deck the blue-clad Frenchman, "Unless... You're somehow connected to it!! I knew it! SPY! He's been lying to you! You dirty liar, how dare you?!" 

His team's Spy presses further into the passenger seat, head in his hand, a few French curses muffled against his gloved palm. The other Spy leans inside to get a better view of Soldier, while making sure not to disturb his counterpart in his moment of exasperation, out of basic decency. 

"Both of our bases are literally powered by this place." BLU Spy tells the American. "In case you forgot." 

"Easy, you two," Engineer sits up, "no need to fight right now. We're not on a mission." he pauses, "Not a regular one." 

"Exactly," the enemy spy agrees, disregarding Soldier altogether to focus on the more sensible mercenary, "That's why I have come to propose... A temporary truce, for the time being. It will be more productive if we join our forces until we resolve this issue." 

"Or you could just get the Hell out of our-" 

Engie shushes Soldier mid-sentence. "Sounds reasonable, blue Spook. Who's with you?" 

Spy gives them all another glance. "Same selection as yours: our Engineer, Soldier, and Scout, as well as myself." 

"Huh," the short man is amused at this strange coincidence. "This helps. Eight might be a bit much for this, but it could also cut our time by half. Let us step out of the car, and I'll be able to share my plan with y'all." 

"Very well. I'll get my associates." 

With this, BLU Spy walks back to his van to inform the rest of his companions. Scout rests his crossed arms against the back of Engineer’s seat while they wait. He asks the older man, “Sure we can trust’em?”

“They’re as vulnerable as us without electricity,” he replies to the youth, “So I’ll take a gamble.” 

Next to them, Spy has stepped out to light a cigarette. 

  
  


They'd all decided to go with RED Engineer's plan, albeit the parties are now doubled; both Scouts stationed in the RED van while the six older mercenaries make their ways to the power plant. It's completely pitch-black, only the light of the moon, as well as their flashlights, guide them towards the building. Even Teufort, which would usually be visible at a distance, lays in the dark. It would only be a matter of time before its inhabitants figure out where the problem comes from. Better hurry. 

Upon arriving at the chain-link fence that surrounds the small facility, RED Spy locates the back entrance. It's a simple gate displaying a crudely written ‘Keep Out’ cardboard sign. Fortunately for them, the lock has been thoroughly destroyed already, which saves them some time but also confirms their apprehensions. 

"Stay on your guard, men" RED Soldier lets out before they all walk in one by one. Him and his counterpart scan the area. "Coast is clear. This way." 

A dark mass strewn along the way catches the BLU Spy's attention. He carefully moves towards it. "Security officer," he whispers harshly to the others. 

"Still alive?" the other spy approaches, then crouches near the two.

BLU Spy puts two fingers to the man's neck to check for a pulse. "Yes. Knocked out. Probably will wake up with a concussion." 

They both load their guns. "Let's move." RED Spy tells him, and they return to the Engineers while the Soldiers check for any suspicious activity closer to the building itself. Just like the outside, all the rooms are completely black. One Soldier, the blue one, peeks inside. He is however unable to make anything out of it. There doesn't seem to be anyone in their direct vicinity, save for the unconscious guard. He signals to his counterpart that nothing is coming up, who in turn informs the four other mercenaries. 

"Alright, that's where we go separately," RED Engineer gawks at the opened door that leads inside, "You BLUs go through the left portion," he addresses the other Engineer-Spy combo, "We'll take the right. First team to find the power supply room warns the other. Understood?" 

"Understood," BLU Spy assures him. Him and his teammate are the first to disappear inside. 

The remaining two look at each other and nod before finally walking in. None of them know the layout of the building, so they're effectively going in blind in all possible definitions of the term. Silent, oppressing darkness surrounds them as they make their way through what looks to be the main corridor. Engineer's flashlight sweeps its walls to look for any rooms. Spy treads at a safe distance behind to advance in the shadows, regularly checking their backs. 

They turn right at an intersection, into a more welcoming hallway flanked with an array of windows that let some of the moonlight in. 

"Oh, gosh darn it, why do they need so many doors? This place isn't even that big," Engineer groans. "Look at this. They ain't even labelled." 

"You know... we could look for an evacuation plan." Spy remarks. 

Engineer turns to him, his flashlight briefly revealing him. Spy steps out of it. "This place is run by inhabitants of Teufort." 

"So?" 

"Oh. You don't know, then." Engie shrugs as he resumes his way down the hallway. 

Spy blinks at his companion's slowly shrinking form. "What? What do you mean, I don't know?" he catches up to him, as silently as humanly possible. 

The Texan stops. "Nothing." his rubber glove knocks against an object stuck to the wall next to him. "Here's your 'evac plan'. Have a look." 

He even holds the light to it so that the Frenchman can consult it. "In case of fire... run." Spy reads. "Ah."

"Ah indeed." Engineer deadpans, "And would you look at that. No layout-"

"Alright, alright, point taken," Spy raises a hand in surrender. 

His colleague scoffs. "Let's just hope the power supply room is labelled, at least." 

"How does this place even run normally?" 

"Heck if I know. I am not surprised it was so easily overtaken and shut down," Engineer pushes a door that's ajar to check inside. The room is full of equipment but barren of any employee. Even down on the ground. "Darn. Where is everyone?" 

So far, they have not encountered any workers, and that worries Engineer. They're civilians, ultimately, and he'd hate to think any innocent person could be hurt in a campaign that targets RED (and possibly BLU). Teufortians may be idiots, but he'd never wish any harm on them. Spy cannot give an answer to his previous question, so they opt to continue exploring further into the building. 

They land into another pitch-black section of the place. Engineer hopes for a call from the BLU team with news of the supply room. Sadly, the walkie talkie stays silent.

"I think I hear something," Spy focuses on a faint noise he's picking up. "This way." 

Engineer simply follows him without a word to yet another unlabelled door. The Frenchman holds his index finger to his mouth. What sounds like ragged wails rise from the other side, and it sends chills down the shorter man's spine. He dreads to find out their origin. 

Spy walks in. Engineer hesitates, but holds his flashlight up; he almost jumps when he sees a pair of legs appear within the light's beam. They move slightly, indicating their owner is still alive, and most likely startled by the two newcomers.

"You've got your answer," the taller mercenary whispers. "That's an employee." 

"Thanks. I've noticed." 

Cautious not to blind the man, Engineer lets the light travel over his body to inspect it. His throat tightens as the uniform grows redder towards the worker's stomach, and the latter clutches it weakly with a blood-covered hand. Despite the wound, he shifts again, as if to escape into the dark, away from them. His attempts bear no fruit, other than splattering more blood over himself. 

"...T-Teufort Nine," he gasps, unable to speak any louder. 

Engie finally manages to spring into action, kneeling next to the frightened employee to settle him down. "Hey, take it easy, we got nothin' to do with this, this time- we're just trying to help."

Furiously rummaging his overalls' pocket with one hand, he retrieves a rag he uses to sometimes clean the oil off his buildings, lucky for the guy, it had just been washed, so it'll have to do. 

"Here. Hold it against the wound," he instructs the other somewhat hesitantly, his gesture almost useless since the man seems to have lost too much blood already. The man obeys, albeit reluctantly, and covers the neat gash carved deep into the skin and muscles of his torso, in at the base of his chest, underneath the ribs. "Jesus. He’s been stabbed in the diaphragm, I believe." He’d seen his own, thanks to Ludwig, so he’s able to recognise. 

Spy, stationed at the door, watches the corridor like a hawk. “The diaphragm,” he repeats, a slight uneasiness in his voice. His companion misses the nuance. 

"Just a sec," Engineer grabs his walkie talkie. He switches to the BLU Engineer-Spy’s channel. "BLU Team, do you read? Over." he says barely above a whisper, hopeful it'll still be heard. 

After a second, BLU Engineer replies. "Yes, all clear. Have you found anything yet? Over." 

"An employee. Wounded. Losing blood. But no power supply room yet. Over." 

There’s a pause. Then the walkie talkie picks up again. 

“Darn. I was prayin’ any employee would be spared.” RED Engineer internally agrees with his counterpart, "-wait. Oh no." 

It cuts. Worried, Engie forgoes the protocol and talks through the device. 

"BLU Team? What's wrong?" 

His counterpart finally replies. "We've just found two bodies. Stabbed in the stomach multiple times. I am going to warn the other teams. Suspect might still be around. Over and out." 

Two bodies. Engineer almost drops his walkie talkie. "That bastard- those bastards- whoever, they killed civilians," 

Spy has nothing relevant to say. 

"I forgot about the civilians, I should've brought Ludwig, what was I thinking," Engie whispers harshly, "Dammit," 

He’d been so sure that this operation would go more or less smoothly- get in, find the switch, get out- but as small as this place is, it still needs a workforce, one that has got caught in something beyond itself. Within the borders of their multiple battlegrounds, Engie at least gets the comfort that civilian casualties are virtually nonexistent. This, however, as illustrated by this stranger slowly bleeding out in front of him, this stranger he can do nothing for, and who won’t respawn, this is real. 

Maybe the lack of sleep of these past few days is starting to get to him. No, that can’t be it. He’s feeling fine. 

Before Engineer falls into a deeper state of fruitless contemplation, his teammate crouches across from him and reaches over the wounded employee to grab his shoulders. 

“Dell,” Spy shakes him softly out of his daze, “Dell, we do not have time for this. The Docteur could have done nothing about the dead,” nothing _useful_ , that is, “and we cannot help the living unless we turn the power back on. There’s no way for us to call the emergencies as we are now.”

Engineer stares at him for a moment, an indescribable expression caught on his face, barely visible in the flashlight’s bloom. Then, he nods. “No, you’re right.”

The other gives him a heartfelt pat on the shoulders, before pulling away. 

“Allow me to wonder, though, Spook…” Engineer glances down at the man lying on the floor, “You and BLU found the security guard alive, correct?”

“Yes?” 

“Why would… Why spare a few people, then? If it’s to kill the others? Why leave some of them for us to find? This doesn't make any sense.”

Spy takes a few seconds to think up a reply. “I sadly can only draw conjectures at this point, but… it resembles a tactic I’ve seen before.” Before he was an actual spy. It goes unsaid, Engineer has no need to know that kind of detail about him. He's shared too much about himself already. “Leaving fallen men behind injured can distract and lower morale.” he’d already done that. Shoot pursuers in the arm or the legs, instead of going for the kill. His mind drifts to sleepless nights spent hiding in the valleys of South-Eastern France, death at his heels. Engineer’s voice brings him back in the instant. 

“Darn, Not sure I like the sound of this.”

“Me neither.” Spy admits, ultimately put off by his own hypothesis, “I hope that I am wrong and that this is not a ploy to stall us.”

"St- Still..." the man between them hisses, despite his diminished state and the effort it takes him to even utter words. A wave of agitation surges through his body, prompting Engineer to settle him down once again. 

“Shh… Save your breath, partner. We’ll find some help. I’ll promise.” he sadly doesn't believe his own words. 

Spy, who has concluded that he wouldn't be of much help in this situation, merely observes his teammate's careful movements in handling the wounded, exhausted worker. However, the latter's insistence to speak compels Spy to let him do so. 

"Dell, hang on, he's trying to tell us something." he indicates in a calm whisper to the other. 

They both lean in a little closer. 

"Still... still... here..." the man rasps out, torn diaphragm causing the air to fail at producing sounds when passing through his throat. 

"Still here?" Engineer mouths at Spy, who shakes his head, "What is still here?" he then addresses the employee, whose revulsed stare travels beyond Engie's form, into the darkness behind him. 

"Stabbed... me..." his eyes widen even more. 

And that's when Spy catches it. The vague shape of an arm raising to plunge a faintly glinting object in Engineer's back. The Frenchman springs from his crouched position, flinging his body full force, past his colleague, and against the threatening presence. 

Alarmed, the shorter mercenary whips his flashlight towards the commotion to help his friend, but the now struggling men are both moving too erratically to follow. And the direct light is also hurting Spy's eyes. 

"Keep a visual on the..." he tries to grip firmly at his opponent, who is more intent on running away than actually fighting back,"...the employee! I'll manage!" 

Engineer reluctantly does so and turns his attention to the wounded man animated with sudden panic. 

Shuffling noises and low grunts emerge from the shadows as both Spy and the intruder exchange small blows. It's difficult to see where any of these land although he's managed to discern that the man is wearing some sort of mask, not unlike his own, that conceals his features even to the touch, and that his right knuckle had connected at least once with the other's cheekbone. A small pulse of pain travels up his arm. He still has his gun, when it comes to it, but he'd plan to take whoever this guy was alive, for questioning. Thorough questioning. With a push of his elbow, he shoves his adversary against the wall, pressure put against his throat. This does not deter the man who keeps thrashing for an escape. 

From where he's kneeling, Engineer can only guess what's currently happening. He's not much of a fighter, and lacks a weapon at the moment, but he figures he could lend Spy a hand. 

As he's about to do so, Spy gets kneed very hard in the lower stomach. The strike was probably aimed at his groin, but it still has him double over, letting go of his opponent to cough out. There's no relief from this, because the man hits him in the nape, and he finally collapses to the ground, a disagreeable pounding rising up in the back of his skull. He does not give up. Through instinct, he grabs his opponent's ankle to stop him from running away.

It makes the other trip while he is going through the door, and he lands flat on his stomach in the hallway. 

Spy holds on with a force of steel. Neither of them intends to lose; the man starts crawling away, full of the will and strength granted to cornered animals. The Frenchman feels himself dragged out of the room completely before pushing himself up slightly to scramble for his revolver concealed at his belt. In the span of a few seconds, he briefly considers shouting at Engineer for some light to see where he'd aim at, but decides against it, as to not alert his fleeing opponent of his plan up until the last moment. 

That said, the lack of clarity poses a problem. He really wants to avoid a mortal shot at all costs. And he'd only have one try. The noise would warn any possible accomplices of the commotion, making them retreat. The dim light that comes from the windowed corridor he'd traversed with Engineer earlier helps trace out a clearer silhouette of the man he's pointing his gun at: the shape of his shoulder, of his masked head, focused on getting away from Spy. It snaps immediately to him once the safety is clicked off. The struggle pauses.

Spy hesitates too long to take the shot. 

_"_ A firearm? Not fair _."_ he hears the other's whispered words, they hit him in the face before it is met violently with the bottom of a shoe. 

His nose breaks on impact, a sinister crack echoes in the empty halls, followed by a stray gunshot that embeds itself in the ceiling. Spy finally lets go. When his bloodied face plants on the ground, it's not met with the cold, tiled floor of a blacked-out power plant. 

_But instead, the fresh moss and the dirt that cover the soil of the forests around Lyon. It sticks to his sweaty forehead, as are his locks of wild hair. He doesn't remember when he fell, or how long he'd been running from..._

_Maybe he should give up. This is exhausting. The soft bed of vegetation beckons him to close his eyes._

_A hand extends in front of him, bony, but young. He lifts his head wearily at it, mud clinging to his skin._

_"Allez, debout, Léon."_

A flash of vivid light burns his retinas. He blinks, turning his face away. 

"Spy. Spy, get up." 

Engineer's gloved hand hovers, held out so he can use it as support to stand up. Instead of taking it, Spy checks his face. His mask is still here. His nose stings. Blood has started to dry around his nostrils. 

"Yeah, he got you good. This is nasty," Engineer comments, eyes veering to the pool of blood under Spy’s head. "Are you okay, though? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Did he? Did he actually see one? Spy still remains silent, trying to process the past few minutes. One thing is for certain. He's in 1968, not 1943. In the middle of New Mexico, not France. With a companion who's growing tired of being ignored.

Spy finally accepts Engineer's help, cradling his numbing injury with one hand as he stands up. "He got away," the Frenchman points out.

"He did." 

"I'm sorry." 

Engineer opens his mouth, but he's interrupted by a voice calling out at the end of the hallway. It's Soldier's. He and his BLU counterpart rapidly spot Spy and Engineer with their flashlights. 

"Men! We heard a gunshot!" Soldier comes to a halt near them. 

"Yes, it was me." Spy notices that he's still holding onto his revolver. He puts the safety on and tucks it away, instead searching for a handkerchief to wipe away whatever blood he could from his face. It’d be a while until he’d get to a medigun, so he’ll have to push through. Not too difficult. He has sustained more grievous injury before. And carried out missions successfully while sustaining said grievous injury. "The intruder is still here. I fought him off, but lost him." 

Both Soldiers salute at the same time, unprompted, one of them almost projecting his lamp out of his hand. 

"We're on this!" BLU Soldier assures, while the RED one makes sure his flashlight remains firmly in his grasp. "We'll go after this maggot and apprehend him, you two focus on finding the power source." 

"Affirmative," Soldier confirms, "You can count on us. He'll be caught faster than I can say 'HUTTAH'!" 

Engineer lowers his shoulders. "Don't... just don't actually 'huttah' him, okay. We need him alive." 

"Roger. No huttah." the Soldiers nod between each other, not without a slight note of disappointment in their voices. 

“You can ‘huttah’ him once we’ve squeezed all the info out of him.” The Texan man gives them a half-hearted thumbs up. "Now go." When the two men have disappeared at the turn of a hallway, hot on the intruder's tracks, Engineer turns to Spy. "We have to find the switch. Quick."

* * *

It had been roughly thirty minutes since the van had left the garage. Thirty very long minutes. They must have barely got to the place. 

On any other night, Sniper would have appreciated the total absence of light pollution to look up at the starry night. Maybe he might have even accepted some company in stargazing. But this isn't on purpose. Someone has chosen to trap them in the dark. 

Like prey. Ripe for the picking. 

At this point, it isn't a matter of whether the saboteurs will strike anymore. He just wishes they'd take the shot already.

From his perch, just above the bases’s back entrance that’s barely lit by a few red LEDs, he scans his surroundings through the scope of his rifle, trying to pick up any visual, any sound, any disturbance that might give away the presence of anyone suspicious. Not that he’d be able to shoot them with the low visibility; he’s got his SMG resting next to him in case of direct confrontation. The vast desert which shines so brightly during the day and reminds him of the Australian outback he grew up in now extends itself, unrecognisable, like an endless black void ready to suck the entire base in. Only a few rocks, peppering the horizon, jut out against the sky. His camper is lost somewhere in there. He takes his eye off the scope, letting out a long sigh that lingers in the cold air around him. How he wishes to go back within the confines of his RV. 

The sound of a few steps coming towards his position pulls him out of his thoughts. Nothing to worry himself over. He’s come to memorise each of his teammate’s walks. This particular pace indicates to him that Pyro is merely done with his first round of the premises, Fire Axe in hand and ready to be thrown at enemies.

“Up here!” The Australian calls out to him. Despite the darkness, Pyro is able to spot him. The latter waves at him. “Hang on. Comin’ down.”

Sniper lays down his rifle carefully and picks up his SMG instead. He jumps down to meet with his teammate as he arrives near the back entrance. 

“Anything to report, mate?” Sniper asks Pyro, who shakes his head. 

“Yeah, me neither.” he’s got a few curses to express his current state of mind, but keeps them to himself.

“Hrrmhph mrmmr” the other tells him.

“No, I told ye, we can’t light a fire.” The Australian reminds him in the softest way possible. 

“Hrmmmm hmmpm hrrhm mmh…” he looks around, arms close to his body, his grasp on his Fire Axe shaky.

“I know ye don’t like th’dark all that much.” Sniper offers a reassuring pat on the back, “It’s better that way though. If we can’t see them, they don’t get t’see us either.” He punctuates the end of his sentence with a sneer. His masked companion asks him what makes him so certain there’s several of them. Or if someone will even come, since there’s already a supposed commotion at the power plant. “Mate, please. Think about what’s happenin’. This whole mess.” 

Pyro tilts his head. 

Sniper sighs. “‘S’coordinated approach. They’ve been at it for a while now, right? Takin’ pictures, studyin’ our habits, all that crap. Anyway ye look at it, though, it’s still nine of us, armed to the teeth and not afraid ta pull the trigger when necessary.” _Okay, not ALWAYS when necessary,_ in some of his colleague’s cases. Still, he got his point across, “I only know a handful of drongos moronic enough t’try and bother with us, and they’re a team themselves. The opposite one.” 

After this drawn-out explanation, he takes a pause. That’s already too much talking from him. He abhors running his mouth in such a fashion. This situation has him hot and bothered; his verbal annoyance at it will probably earn him a sore throat in the morning.

The shorter mercenary seems to follow him. “Hrm thm mmmrrmpmm?” 

“The conclusion? Well, even if it’s one guy that’s got a beef with us, he’d still need help from others. That much we all figured out, I think. What I believe is that they’re mostly tryin’ to tire us out. You know? Wear us t’the bone, with all those small attacks. If they wanted to kill us, they’d have done so by now.” 

“Hmmm thmm tmm Spmmm?” 

“Nah, not yet. ‘Cause he might already have a clue ‘bout all that. Fella's smart. Also, after what happened, I just want t’knock his teeth out, t’be honest.” Sniper frowns at the query. He can feel Pyro’s unimpressed stare even from behind his gas mask, which glows under the door’s red lights, “I know. I know. It ain’t productive. And it’s a terrible thing t’say about a friend.”

To that, Pyro agrees.

“But ye can’t tell me he’s been dealin’ with… _That other issue of his_ real well, either.”

Pyro begrudgingly gives him that, as well.

“He ain’t been fair, is all I’m sayin’.” 

“Hrrm gmmm mm hmmmm” Pyro scratches the rubber around his respirator. 

“Sure, he’s got a lot on his mind. I get it. I'll back off. We just can't afford any distraction-”

Suddenly, Pyro's body is overcome with a chilling stiffness that cuts Sniper off. The latter doesn't have the time to voice a concern that the Fire Axe flies past him, launched with scary precision. He dodges out of reflex, with the grace of a frightened weasel, even if the weapon was clearly not aimed at him, but at a spot on the wall it's now lodged firmly into. Bathed in the dim light, the axe wedged between two bricks and its elongated shadow look terrifying. 

"Mhssmm hm." Its owner goes to retrieve it. 

"Missed him?" Sniper mutters, fumbling for a flashlight he's disregarded up until now, "Missed who, mate?" 

Pyro doesn't reply. Boot resting against the wall, both hands on the axe's handle, he yanks it out before holding it defensively again. Sweeping the area around him with light, Sniper backs off slowly towards the back door, next to his teammate. He passes the flashlight to Pyro and holds his SMG at the ready. So far, nothing, or rather, no one, turns up. The taller mercenary snaps his head to an indistinct sound, finger about to press on the trigger for a warning shot. 

Something small rolls at their feet. Pyro points the light to it. A peculiar shaped grenade. 

“Oh, bugger.” Sniper pushes his companion out of the way, before launching himself into the crates surrounding the back entrance, just as the explosive goes off in a deafening whirl of blinding light his eyes are not prepared for. His body crashes down, senses overwhelmed; for a couple of seconds, nothing around him makes any sense. The ringing in his ear is close to driving him insane. Pyro lies a bit farther away, hands on his gas mask as he lets out pained mumbles. Sniper desperately fights off all his reflexes telling him to just lie down and wait for this to pass, to attempt at standing up, only to stumble and hit the unwelcoming cemented ground. Fortunately, he still has a strong grip on his weapon, so he flips onto his back in the general direction of the door, despite the afterimage forming in his field of vision, and aims the machine gun towards it. With a loud shout he can barely hear, he empties the entirety of his magazine into the dark. 

Whoever had tossed the grenade at them isn’t interested in finishing them off, because the next step of the assault rises after a dreadfully long silence in the form of an explosion, a real one this time, of fire and debris that disorientates Sniper further. 

Pyro pushes himself into a wobbly stance. Wearing a mask has protected him from some of the light. He charges, axe raised, into the thick smoke that coats the zone around the door in the bomb’s wake. The sharp end of his weapon fails to catch the silhouette of a person running inside, cutting only through the fumes. Dizziness takes hold of him after that push but he manages to remain upright. Instead of following the attackers, Pyro prioritises tending to his friend. 

Strong arms steady Sniper, careful not to shake him too much in this state. Most of his sight had come back by now. The ringing, however, is now replaced by an insufferable buzzing sound. The Australian takes off his glasses to wipe his eyes roughly. When the smoke dissipates, a gaping hole into the base is all that’s left of the previous backdoor. The blast has completely torn it off from its frame. Trails of footsteps in the falling dust bear witness to the passage of several intruders. Pyro stares at them, immobile.

“Shit, I was right, wasn’t I,” Sniper lets out, and his own voice seems so foreign to him, “And now they got in.” 

Fighting against the sudden fatigue takes a toll on him. He lets himself go limp in Pyro’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French Translation - 
> 
> "Allez, debout, Léon." - Come on, get up, Léon. 
> 
> This has been rather difficult to write, I won't lie! I might have to go back to this and add revisions (only stylistic ones, nothing in relation to the plot), keep an eye out for those!! I might also take a break either next Sunday or after chapter 5 to focus on how the story goes from then on, I mean, I have it planned out already, I just need some time to think.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chaotic night where no one behaves as expected. Or maybe some do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this chapter: 
> 
> -graphic description of violence and injury  
> -description of strangulation  
> -blood  
> -needles and syringes
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience as I was making my way through this doozy of a chapter- sorry it's so long! But I had already cut the power station arc once, I didn't find a good place to cut it again, besides extending other 3 chapters seemed like a bad idea, to me. Anyway- here it is! The continuation and conclusion to these shenanigans. Hopefully next chapter brings the mercs SOME reprieve. We'll see! 
> 
> Again thanks for the amazing feedback, you guys are the best. Don't hesitate to let me know your thoughts on this chapter! If there's anything to improve, I will happily oblige!
> 
> Also, lots of French in this chapter! As always, the translation is in the end notes.

"Okay. What card am I holding now?" Scout asks, a Jack of Hearts fresh out of a game he'd found in the glove compartment of his team's van. Probably left behind by Soldier or Demo during one boring mission. It's a little shitty and used around the corners, but it's the most interesting thing he's laid his eyes on for the past half hour.

"Dunno." the BLU Scout, in the passenger seat, stares blankly outside, arms crossed. 

"Awh come on dude, y'can't even make a little guess? You got the last one right!" 

"After like, a dozen times, yeah." 

"Look at it this way: that's just a record you gotta beat." 

BLU Scout sighs. "I ain't playing this stupid game no more." 

"That's cause you're a sore loser," Scout tosses the cards on the dashboard.

"Nah, it's just whack." 

"Well, maybe, but there ain't much else to do so ya can't blame me for tryin' to entertain myself." the boy in red pouts, leaning against the window. "Fuck is it hot in here," he takes off his hat and headset to ventilate himself, and seeing as it does not work, he sets them both aside for the time being. Going hatless makes the heat more bearable. 

"Lower a window instead'a whinin'"

"Well now that ya told me I'm not gonna." 

"Ugh, I'm gonna go crazy at this rate," BLU Scout groans, opening the door slightly on his side to let some air in, "Why am I stuck with you?" 

"I could ask the same thing." Scout recoils in his seat as soon as he's hit by the cold. Low temperatures normally do not bother him as much, but the sheer difference with the inside knocks him like a brick covered in a particularly thick layer of frost. 

The other youth just turns himself completely away from him. Scout tries to ignore him for now. After Spy, this is the last person he wants to be forced to interact with. In a serious manner, at least. 

And now that he's allowing himself to think about... things, instead of drowning his mind with small distractions, his stomach starts hurting again. It's not a usual cramp, he could deal with those. It's more like a pain that slithers its way right up into his chest and squeezes it as if it were trapped in a slowly tightening vice. He takes a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs to the brim with air, to counter that awful, torturous feeling. 

"This is so stupid, why can't I go inside with the others," BLU Scout mumbles mostly to himself, "They don't need two of us to stay by the freakin' radio, I could go help the Soldiers," 

Dreading to see his counterpart dart out of the van, Scout abandons his breathing exercises. He winces when the pain rises again as a result. "Hey, they told us to stay put, so that's what we're doing." 

"Don't gimme that, pal." BLU Scout averts his stare to him, craning his neck in order to do so, "Don't tell me you're not dyin' for some action." 

"Of course I am. But I can't go off on my own. They're all super mad at me already. Dun wanna make it any worse." Admitting that dents his pride ever so slightly, so he opts to look away at the discarded cards in front of him. One of the jokers looks back at him with his permanent printed grin.

Far from mocking him like the card seems to be doing, the second Scout asks in an oddly soft voice, "Is it ‘cause you saved me the other day?" 

Scout frowns. "What?" 

"Y'know, with the bomb. When you pushed me out of the way." 

There it goes. The one topic Scout wishes to avoid. But it's not like there's any escape for him now. Talking about it is inevitable, with them both forced to share a small space together. Better pull off the band-aid. 

"Nah, I didn't tell them 'bout that. They don't know."

"Oh, good. I didn’t tell my team either," BLU Scout averts his stare, a hand darting up to scratch his nape. 

_Okay, great, please don't..._

"I been meaning to ask though. Why did you do that? I woulda just been sent to respawn." 

_Fuck._ Stinging pain pierces through Scout's gut as he is forced to remember the event. Through gritted teeth, he says, "Man. I don't know. It just didn't feel right. This whole shit doesn't feel right." he starts bouncing his leg out of stress, "Look, can we not talk about it?" 

"Sure...?" 

Wretched silence falls between them. Neither of them can handle it, but RED Scout cracks first.

"It's just, why is it getting so complicated? For months we've just been murderin' each other for land, nothin' more, nothin' less, and now someone else is getting involved? Fuck this." 

BLU Scout nods. "You got that right. I think we’re all on the same page when it comes ta this. Like, both teams." 

“Yeah. I just want this whole thing t’blow over, so I can bash your face again without having t’worry.” 

“Not if I bash yours first-” BLU Scout brings his fingers to his headset, "Hang on, I'm getting something." 

Thank God for that. Scout doesn't reach for his own gear, because he remembers that BLU Scout's operates on a different channel. Whatever. The other can tell him the news.

"... Two bodies?" BLU Scout lets out while listening to his Engineer summarise the situation. When he's finally given the turn to speak, he simply says, "Understood. We will tell you if anyone comes out. Over and out." 

"They found dead guys in there?" Scout perks up, glancing briefly at the power station visible from behind the boulders, drenched in the pale moonlight. With that new piece of information, instead of an inconspicuous concrete building, what he catches a glimpse of resembles more the likes of a horror movie backdrop. A forsaken place in the middle of the desert? Almost too perfect for a setting.

"Yeah. And another injured one." 

"Fuck. They get all the excitement." he says, half-heartedly, because the other doesn’t need to know that he is mildly... intimidated by the circumstances. 

"Right? I was just thinking that." BLU Scout is luckily too wound up to take note. 

Another silence. It's getting harder for them to keep still. They thankfully do not need to engage in painful small talk to trump boredom. The universe, as if wise to their plight, sends them a much awaited distraction that takes the shape of a police car driving up towards the power plant's main entrance. Both Scouts look at each other, then the RED one swiftly turns off the lights of the van. 

It seems that the two officers that get out of the car haven't noticed them at all. Both young men discreetly lean out the passenger seat's side to catch their conversation.

"...This can only be the Teufort Nine's fault. Who else would ruin our lives like this?" The first police officer, a tall lanky man, asks aloud. 

"Are we sure they're even nine? I counted like, eighteen of those assholes." His short, stout companion replies. 

"Nah, pretty sure they're just nine, they just like to swap colours, sometimes,”The lanky one answers. 

His partner takes a small, yet thoughtful pause. “Ah yeah. Makes sense.”

“Either way, I'm hoping to catch them red handed. This time community service won't cut it." 

"Like Hell it won't!"

“Who knows, it might end with some justly deserved hangings-”

The two officers soon walk far enough for the Scouts to not hear the rest of their exchange anymore. The boys remain in the same position for a few seconds more, absolutely stunned by this turn of events. 

BLU Scout blinks. "...Holy shit."

"Ya got that right." Scout moves back to his seat. "M'gonna warn the others that the literal police is about to drop on their asses." 

The other catches his wrist before he can grab his headset that’s forsaken on the backseat. Swiftly yanking his arm away, he frowns. 

"Don't do that." is all BLU Scout says.

"What the actual fuck. I have to. We gotta warn them, remember?" 

"Yeah but what if your stupid voice rises up and attracts _discount Laurel and Hardy_ to their location, huh?", Scout hadn't thought of that, so he lets his counterpart continue, "Besides, there are DEAD GUYS in there. If the police catches them and starts believin' they killed those randos, they'll be in big trouble. Ya heard the officers." he slides his index finger across his own throat.

"So what? The Soldiers will take care of them." 

"Y'mean they'll most likely kill them, which is not that great either. Those fuckers don’t respawn, remember?" 

Scout squints. "Whaddya suggest then, genius?" 

The other simply stares at him with a grin. One that spells trouble. 

"Dude. No." the red-clad Bostonian shakes his head.

"Listen, I'm going either way. I'll take care of those officers b'fore they reach my teammates. So you can stay here and be lame if ya want." 

Truly, this is all just an excuse to get out of the van. Come to think of it, Scout would be a fool not to jump on the opportunity. Besides BLU Scout has made some convincing arguments, and they don’t even have to step in the power station to stop the policemen, right? He grabs his pistol. 

"Awright. But as soon as we're done, we drag our asses back to this spot, understood?" 

The other young man crosses his heart, like an eight year old. "Promise." 

Scout rolls his eyes and gets out of the car, locking it once they're both outside. "I'm so dead," he mutters, following BLU Scout towards the facility. 

"Not if we pull this off ya ain't." BLU Scout lets out, smugness radiating off him, "Just ya see. They'll be thanking us for getting them outta trouble."

"Shut the fuck up. Please." Scout tells him as he turns his flashlight on.

* * *

Miles away, Medic’s voice rises in the stillness of the RED base’s inner quarters. "Zhe themes! It's all about zhe themes, _mein Freund_." Heavy holds one of the doors to the Rec Room open for him. " _Danke schön_."

They enter, and he resumes his banter. 

"Now vhere vas I. Ah yes! Zhe book." 

The Russian man lifts an incredulous eyebrow. It goes without saying that he cultivates an immense respect for Medic. During work, since they usually pair up into a monstrous duo capable of mowing down wave after wave of enemies, and outside of battle as well because he has found in the other man a remarkable conversation partner, as shown right at this instant. In time, he would even call Medic his best friend, if someone bothered to ask, which never happens. And he's certain, no matter how deep and beautiful his relationship with the Engineer becomes, that Medic reciprocates those strong platonic feelings. However, some of the German doctor's more peculiar traits still escape his grasp. 

Like, for instance, the fact that, in the middle of a blackout that leaves them in a prime position to be attacked, the only thing that seems to currently float on his mind is... their book club. 

A book club between the two of them, Engineer, and Spy, started months ago, at the Texan's suggestion, to which only the mercenaries holding interest in reading had replied. They'd all been thorough members, surprisingly: this month was Spy's pick, _La Peste_ , written by Albert Camus, one of his favourite authors. He even managed to obtain four copies in each of their mother tongues for the occasion. Nobody within the team actually knows where Spy gets these things from. Again, nobody asks. Regardless, not even the multiple threats against the RED team had managed to deter Medic from reading it. He's got things to say about the book, and, goddamnit, he will say them. 

"Beyond zhe obvious allegories referring to zhe political context surrounding its writing, of course," he scrunches up his nose, this was neither the time nor the place to address that particular brand of evil. He prefers to keep that subject for their next meeting, "and zhe historical inaccuracies. You have to see past zhat." 

Heavy, who is mindful of those when reading any kind of written piece, thus has enjoyed the work far less, gives him an unconvinced hum. " _Да_. I will ignore. What is Doctor's take?" he asks while keeping an ear out. 

"It is a book about remorse. About letting things fester and watching zhem grow out of control." Medic explains with a wicked smile, "Like, _ja_ , a plague. Zhat takes out people one by one. As zhe protagonist fails to do anything in time." 

"Hrm." the larger man rubs his chin, "So not actual disease." 

" _Nein_. Zhe disease is a pretext. Even if I admit, I do enjoy reading about it." 

Heavy shakes his head, slightly amused. Figures. 

“Zhere’s also another fascinating aspect I’ve been contemplating,” Medic adds after a few seconds of silence. 

“Another aspect?” the gentle giant continues to play along, considering that since nothing’s happening at the moment, the discussion is a nice distraction, “Tell Heavy.”

“Vell. I am not an expert on zhe mind as much as I am on zhe body,” Medic leans against the chess table, Syringe Gun loosely hanging in his arms as he thinks, “But vhen you take into account who suggested zhat vork, and how much it seems to mean to him…”

“Spy recommended book.” Heavy states.

“You are correct.” Medic nods, “I do believe zhat, unconsciously or not, Herr Spy has given us a wide window to his personal insecurities.” 

Not too far-fetched. “He never shares.” 

“Maybe it is his way of doing so, zhen.” with someone as mysterious as the Frenchman, any hypothesis becomes plausible. 

“Always part of me when I read book. Is how I feel. Favourite books make me think about myself.” Heavy explains. 

“Ve agree.” Medic replies to this with one of his malicious-looking, but ultimately good-natured smiles. “...Now, I vonder vhat could be _his_ plague.”

They don't get to enjoy that moment of complicity, or reflect upon the doctor’s question when a first detonation tears out of nowhere in the distance. The doctor stands up from his spot, grip tightening on his weapon. Then, there's a second, louder explosion. 

Book discussions can wait after all. 

"You heard it, _mein Freund_." Medic addresses Heavy, mood suddenly somber. Of his former laid-back demeanour, no trace remains. "Our guests have arrived."   
  
  


Despite his teammate's cumbersome frame, Pyro has managed to haul him into the base through the now busted entrance. He dares not take any steps further inside. The daunting hallway that sprawls itself in front of him terrifies him more than any hostile presence he could possibly stumble upon. That, and he doesn't want to leave his vulnerable friend to his own devices. 

Fortunately, it doesn't take long for Sniper to stir from where he's hangin on Pyro's shoulders. With a relieved sigh, the shorter mercenary sits him down against a wall. This time, the Australian regains a firmer grasp of his senses. He's still thankful that the usual blaring siren that accompanies intrusions is out of order for the moment. His hearing would have not survived that, he’s certain of it. 

"M'okay, mate," he mumbles, even with the migraine that rears its ugly head now that he's fully conscious. Goddamn stun grenade. He accepts the slightly burnt handkerchief the other offers him. “Thanks.”

Pyro nods. He wishes he could do more to help. 

"Y'can leave me here- go after the intruders," Sniper drags the crispy piece of fabric across his sweat-coated face, "I'll catch up wit' ye." 

But the other refuses to move. 

"C'mon. Ye still in fightin' condition. I can't weigh ye down." 

"Fmmm Mmmdmm." Pyro tells him sternly, a gloved finger poking Sniper's chest. The latter chuckles. 

"Medic's God knows where making rounds in th'base with Heavy, mate. They'll prob'ly have their hands full real soon, anyway." he slumps down more, head turning. His chest burns. “Shite.”

This doesn't deter Pyro. Instead of humouring Sniper further, he hoists him up, as careful as he can, to help him walk. 

"Yer a persistent little bugger, aint'ya," Sniper side glances at Pyro's masked head. 

"Dmmm lmmm m mmrmm." 

Hearing those particular mumbles, Sniper feels bad. He shakily tips his hat down, not that the other can meet his stare. "Nah, don't worry. I won't leave ya alone." 

They both fall silent as Pyro steers them towards the Medbay.   
  
  


Medic is, in fact, nowhere near the clinic, let alone the wing where it is situated. From the Rec Room, Heavy and him prepare themselves to ambush the intruders whose footsteps they hear getting closer. The Russian man lifts Sasha up, ready to burst out of the door and create a barrage of bullets he hopes will end the onslaught altogether in one fell swoop. 

What he hasn’t thought of, though, is that his minigun’s barrel is peeking just shy of the door, glinting sinisterly in the dim red light that still bathes the entire place, thus alerting the enemy to their presence. They stop. Both mercenaries pick up the sudden silence. Medic holds his breath, edging closer to the exit. A few tense seconds pass, during which neither men know how to proceed, until an object is tossed inside the room.

Just as they heard before. A stun grenade. 

The doctor doesn’t hesitate. He kicks the grenade back out before it has the opportunity to detonate. 

“Heavy! ZHE DOORS!” he shouts to his companion, who slams them shut as he’s told so. They’re so thick, muffle most of the loud sound. Bright light seeps through the cracks, but thanks to Medic’s quick wits, neither of them suffer from it. It might even have caught the others unaware. 

That hope is short lived. When Heavy leaves the Rec room, the men, equipped against stun grenades, are fleeing at the turn of a corridor. This achieves to enrage him and he goes after them, firing Sasha in the process. Medic follows after him and takes advantage of his position behind the giant to shoot. If their targets manage to evade the minigun, a few syringes hit one of them, forcing out a loud scream as the sharp needles pierce through his layers of clothes into his skin. The doctor gestures Heavy to stand down for the moment, to see if they're able to apprehend him alive. Under the red lights, they spot the wounded one's silhouette slow down, the rest of his group nowhere to be found. Instead of collapsing, he violently pries out the syringes from his body with pained gasps, before darting out of their sight. 

Heavy groans in disbelief. "You let him go."

"You vould've killed him," Medic points out, "Besides," he walks towards a trail of small dark puddles that pool on the tiles with a faint shine. "He is bleeding from his vounds. Let's follow." 

A surveillance camera zeroes in on them as they move, and from the monitoring room, Demoman watches with incredulity, trying to proceed what just unfolded in front of his very eye. 

Dragging a hand across his mouth, he mutters, "Aye, Doc, what the Hell ye doin'," 

He then switches to another view, because of course, this joke of a backup generator cannot handle multiple cameras at once, in hopes to find a trace of the rats that have infiltrated the base. While he does that, the Scotsman also attempts to contact the mercenaries off-base with his radio to inform them of the situation. And tell them to hurry up. He is only greeted with static. 

"Great," He gives the device a few smacks with the palm of his hand. No luck. "Bloody Hell. Piece o' shit." 

One screen finally shows him the intruders. They look, at first glance, to be aimlessly running through the many corridors of the base. But on closer inspection, they have a clear target in mind, and the path to it is one that Demoman can recognise instantly, since he takes it everyday.

They're aiming for his lab. Probably to retrieve the bomb he is in the midst of analysing. Or was, before the lights went out. 

"Oh no yer not, ye mongrels."

He picks his Grenade Launcher up and sprints out. 

* * *

Quick and light on their feet, the Scouts are able to catch up with the policemen. These two are so busy complaining loudly about ' _the damn Teufort Nine dragging them out of bed on this lovely night_ ' that they don't notice the young men discreetly slipping through the back entrance. 

By the time they're both through, however, the officers have already disappeared in the power station. 

"Shit," BLU Scout breathes out. 

"Well, we tried." his companion says, ready to retreat. "Was a stupid idea either way." 

"No way, we can still do this. Look." he points towards a few lights behind the windows and the shapes of their targets scouring the dark rooms. "Let's go."

With that, the other boy doesn't wait for him. Scout heaves out a sigh in frustration. Next battle he's gonna make sure his counterpart pays for this stunt. He can already feel the weight of his team's heavy glares crushing him when they learn he abandoned his position for a useless crusade against the local police force. But it all strictly wouldn't be for nothing, would it? This could still turn out to work in his favour in the end, to get back in his teammates' good graces. Maybe even make up for his shitty behaviour of the past week, because to him, there is no other conceivable way to do that apart from proving his worth. Only because of this, he'd try to humour the other Scout. The other Scout who's walking way faster than he is, for some reason. He's already reached the building's door, ready to step inside without a moment's notice. 

_What a gigantic tool._

Distracted by his general distaste for his counterpart, especially his lack of consideration while working in pairs, Scout misses the unconscious guard lying right in the middle of his path and trips over him, landing on his stomach. He bites back a yelp. Hopefully the other hasn't caught any of that. That would be so embarrassing. 

When he understands that he's in contact with another person, he scoots back in horror, believing the guard to be dead. 

"Sorry, pal, I uh, didn't mean it," he hisses, panicked, "Don't come back and haunt me, okay? We cool?" 

Obviously, he gets no response. Scrambling back to his feet, he decides to get away as fast as he can from the man, to meet up with the BLU Scout. Except the BLU Scout is gone now. Without waiting for him. Chills travel down his spine, not because of the cold air he's now getting used to. It dawns on him that he's virtually alone, outside an unfamiliar place. 

No way he's scared. He’s done this plenty of times already. Investigate buildings. Recon stuff. He’s _the Scout,_ for fuck’s sake. That’s what he does. Even if it isn’t what’s expected of him at the present moment. That said, he won't go back to the van either, yet, silently agreeing to go after the BLU Scout just to feed him a hefty piece of mind, or a knuckle sandwich, depending. 

At least, Scout still has his flashlight. It got a little roughed up in the fall but it is still in working order. Upon entering the building, he brings two fingers of his left hand up to his headset to activate it, hoping to catch one of the teams on their channel. He startles when the tip of his fingers brush against his naked ear. His hand frantically pats his head full of short hair as he realises that in his precipitation to follow the BLU Scout, he has forgotten his hat and half of his gear. _Stupid._

A disgusting feeling twists his insides into a series of knots. Not only is he basically walking into a real live haunted attraction, but he's also deprived of any kind of communication. Apart from shouting names randomly, that is, as a terrified teenager in a horror movie would, which he realises would be a grave mistake, given the situation. This kind of trope never ends well, as far as he’s seen. 

" _Okay, Jeremy,_ " he whispers to himself, flashlight hesitantly skipping around the walls, "Ghosts aren't real. So drop the whole haunted house or horror movie comparison. This place has no ghost. Just very murderous guys, but y'can deal with that. Yeah. Y’deal with that every single day." 

Surprisingly, this small pep talk seems to have positive effects. Soon, he's able to focus on finding his counterpart. There’s no exploitable trace of him, however. Damn, now is not the time for this asshole to be competent at his job. 

"No ghosts. No sir. Absolutely none." 

He spins on his heels, having heard something, to aim his lamp at the supposed source. As suspected, only darkness that hugs the walls. 

"And no ghouls. Or spirits, either. Can't forget 'bout those spirits." 

"Scout." 

Something grabs him by the arm and yanks him into an adjacent corridor. Before a scream leaves his lips, a large hand slaps against his mouth. 

"Shhhh! It's us." 

Scout takes a good look at the two Soldiers made visible by the light he's shining at them. The one holding him, his team's Soldier, stares holes into him. Well. Into his helmet, and then into Scout. This intensity finds no obstacle. 

"What are you doing out of the van, kid?" Soldier removes his hand to let him speak, however he keeps his grip on the boy's arm, "You were expressly told to stay put!!" 

"'S'not my fault," Scout averts his eyes like a scolded child, "s'the BLU Scout. Had this stupid idea to come in." 

"My Scout's here too?!" BLU Soldier lets out in absolute disbelief. He had probably hoped his teammate would behave more reasonably. Which is a lot to ask out of a Scout, really. Even Scout himself admits that. 

"Yeah. We spotted police officers coming in t'check on the blackout. Asshole thought about going after'em instead'a warning you so. I just had t'make sure he wasn't unsupervised." 

Soldier grits his teeth for an instant, then unclenches his jaw. "I do NOT care for this kind of excuse, maggot. You were given a task and you've failed it. Not that I'm surprised." 

The youth takes this like a punch to the gut. 

"Now that you're here, you'll stick with us until the end of the mission." 

"What? No! I ain’t takin the fall for this," Scout tries to break free, "I gotta... I gotta go find that idiot!" 

"No, you don't." Soldier pulls him closer, so that Scout is able to meet his steely, angered gaze, "Settle down before I find something to tie you down with." It's not a serious threat. Not yet. 

"Not fair! I swear it wasn't my idea!" Scout almost shouts, which prompts the older mercenary to signal him to stay quiet. 

"You shut it. You're already on thin ice." 

Scout abandons any kind of protest, this time. He knows he's screwed it. He will not hear the end of it, so he prefers spending the next few minutes in total silence. For once. Soldier does not let go of him, in case the sudden docility from the boy is just another trick. 

They're about to move when two men rush at them. Scout rolls his eyes in advance. 

"Freeze! Teufort Police!" 

He takes advantage of Soldier's shift in attention to dislodge his arm. 

"See? I told you. There's two sets of those assholes. They don't just swap colours," the short officer waves his baton between the two Soldiers who gawk at him. "There's one red and one blue of each. You believe me now?" 

“Oh. I absolutely didn’t see that coming.” the other officer admits. 

Both Soldiers then look at each other to check out their own uniforms. Scout takes a soundless step back. This is the perfect distraction. Maybe he doesn't have to put up with this shit, after all. Soldier, sadly, notices his younger teammate has slipped from his grasp. "Hey! Scout!", All three other men snap their heads to him, and he jumps, "Come back here!" 

"Do not move!! You're under arrest!" one of the policemen exclaims, a bit uselessly.

The boy, not about to chance fate, darts away, with a mildly apologetic, "I'm sorry!! I really am, Solly! I swear!", leaving the two mercenaries to deal with the officers.

He picks up his pace, even if he's already too fast for any of them, and runs through a couple of twists and turns until he's certain no one is on his tail. Problem, now he's all turned around, lost in the middle of a very dark, very unwelcoming hallway that seems to stretch for miles on end. As seconds pass, Scout begins to like the idea of looking for his counterpart less and less. 

"I've got to... to find a way outta here," he tells himself, then sets his mind on following this new plan. 

* * *

Pyro helps Sniper sit up on one of the beds in the clinic. The latter, victim of a bout of severe nausea, opts to lie down. His frustration at his own perceived uselessness is almost too tangible for Pyro to bear, thus he steps away and scans the dark room for anything that may relieve his friend's condition quickly. He wants to leave as soon as possible. The clinic is the one place in the base he absolutely dislikes lingering in. 

Sniper watches him raid through the drawers and cabinets. "Mate. Stop. Th'Doc is going to have yer head on a plate if he sees ye trashed his office," 

The remark has Pyro pause his search. He turns his masked head to the Australian. Thinking of the doctor's terrible wrath, the short mercenary delicately closes the drawer he nearly tore out of its socket. He pats it as an apology. 

"Better safe than sorry." Sniper takes off his hat and lets it rest on his chest. Pyro lets out a muffled sigh in defeat, "No, I know ye want t’help. ‘Appreciate it." 

As the other walks back to him, he tries to think of something to cheer him up. Pyro seems hell-bent on bringing assistance, and ultimately, in this diminished state, Sniper is thankful for that.

"Ye know what I could really go for?" 

Pyro lifts his head. He's listening. 

"If ye could grab me a bottled water. I'm sure drinking will help me not feel as shitty." 

Water? Pyro scratches his gasmask. Oh, that's right, his teammates need that stuff to survive. He usually doesn't bother too much with it, but if Sniper asks for it, he won't deny him. With newfound vigour, Pyro nods and gives him a thumbs up. 

"Wmmm wmmtmm?" he asks. 

"In th'pantry or kitchen, I believe." since it's not like Medic would stash something as healthy as water in his clinic. 

That means going outside. Alone. Pyro glances at the door. He advances slowly towards it, hesitation weighing his steps. 

"Ye don't have to do it if it's too much," Sniper assures as he realises, "It's okay, mate." 

However Pyro shakes his head vividly. He'll do it. After a deep breath, he walks into the sinister corridor. The dark is the absence of light. _Of fire_. Of all the good things he's able to see in the day. When the night comes, Pyro's plunged in a world of vague shapes and murky tints. A drab version of the world that terrifies him. By taking away their lights, the reassuring brightness that comforts him, the intruders have made a dire enemy out of Pyro. 

As soon as the power turns on, those trapped within the base will experience a burning fury the depths of Hell will pale in comparison to. 

For the time being, though, Pyro has to focus on his task and brave his fears. Fire Axe close to him, he makes his way very slowly through the reddish shadows, towards the closest spot he'll find bottled water in. He takes cover each time he hears a noise, shaking to his core, but manages to keep his composure. Luck is on his side. Not only does he meet absolutely no one -especially no one hostile- on his way, but he also recognises the swinging doors of the base's pantry after a while. He gives his surrounding one more cautionary glance, then pushes inside. 

It takes him a bit until he finds the bottled water racks at the very bottom. 

He grabs two after tucking his axe in his belt.

Precious cargo in hand and determined to bring it back to Sniper as quickly as possible, Pyro is able to run to the clinic in half the time. As he approaches the door, he steps in something that sounds wet. It distracts him for a split second. The low visibility prevents him from discerning what coats the sole of his right boot. He shrugs it off, eager to finally reach Sniper. 

Something is off. 

At first glance, Pyro notices that Sniper is not on the bed anymore. He would never trick Pyro or leave him on his own. Furthermore, he isn't in the greatest shape to wander around. Pyro treads in carefully. The same mysterious liquid from the front of the door covers the floor inside of the clinic. Certain that it wasn’t there before, Pyro follows it with his eyes.

He drops the bottles at the sight of an intruder holding what appears to be one of Medic's bloody syringes to Sniper's throat. They roll away from the masked mercenary, but he doesn't care. The man holding his friend hostage has his full attention. 

One second. On second with his eyes closed is all that took for Sniper to lose track. Annoyance, more than fear, colours his unseen face. 

"Stay where you are," the intruder orders Pyro in a tired voice, "You take one more step, I'll slash his carotid. Understood?" 

Pyro doesn't move. He merely looks at the two men. Studies their shapes. Sniper has trouble standing up, and slumps forward slightly against the other's grasp, but the latter doesn't seem to be faring much better. Blood drips from his raised arm in possession of the sharp object. Far from intimidating, despite his disposition, he looks like a helpless, panicked animal who has run out of options. Granted, panic can have serious consequences. 

Then again, so does planning to harm Pyro’s teammates. 

"Good. Now you listen to me, you freak," the stranger addresses Pyro dryly, "I know- I know that th-the madman you guys call a doctor has equipment that heals you very quickly." 

Pyro remains absolutely still. 

"You're gonna fetch it for me. Do it, and your buddy won't be harmed." 

"Don't listen t'him, mate. He's fulla crap," Sniper hisses. 

"Wanna bet?" the man groans, menacing to puncture his artery, which prompts Sniper to wince, "I will fucking bleed you to death if you don't shut up," he then turns his stare to Pyro, "What the hell are you waiting for?!" 

In response, Pyro lifts a single, placating hand. This successfully gets the guy to lower the syringe a bit. With his other hand, Pyro slowly reaches for the axe in his back. 

"The fuck are you doing?" 

Sniper observes, nervous. Pyro has the same stiffness to himself as earlier, just before they got attacked. A cold, measured front that signals him his teammate is about to strike. 

And that he also has to trust him. 

Pyro slides the Fire Axe completely free from his belt. His opponent, confused, forgets to threaten Sniper, and instead asks, "Are you listening to me? Answer me!" 

His eyes have adapted to the red filter of the LEDs. He can see clearly both silhouettes detached from the background. Sniper's stare meets his. The latter gives him a small nod, despite the lump in his throat. 

Pyro nods back. 

Sniper ducks further to the side, away from the syringe, offering a clearer shot to Pyro. The man doesn't have the time to do anything in retaliation. In an instant, the Fire Axe is thrown in his direction; its blade hits him in the middle of the forehead, crushing bones, brains and tissues in a gruesome sound, killing him immediately. Sniper closes his eyes reflexively as he's splattered with a large quantity of blood. Once freed from the limp hold, he stumbles towards one of the beds and uses it to prevent himself from falling down. 

The intruder's body collapses like a rag doll on the floor, his head completely destroyed. 

"Crikey, mate," Sniper lets out, eyes screwed on the mangled corpse. Fortunately the lack of light erases some of the gorier details. He should probably avert his stare. To his bloodied clothes, for example. Yes. Good idea. 

Pyro pays no more mind to it. He goes to help the Australian into a steadier position. 

"Well. Thanks again."

They don't notice Heavy and Medic entering the clinic, having followed the blood trail left behind. It's only when the Russian man, who has grabbed the body by the shoulders, axe still firmly planted in its splintered, dripping skull, remarks, "Doctor. Man is dead now.", that both Sniper and Pyro finally take note of their presence. 

Medic bends down to pick up one of the water bottles. Some blood sticks to it. "Ah vell. I guess he got unlucky. Or rather, lucky, depends on the case." he chuckles to himself. 

He hands Sniper the bottle. 

"Vhat happened in here? Vhat are you both doing in my clinic?" 

The Australian grimaces when he receives the soiled bottle. It's still sealed shut, sure, but he's not going to drink from it now. He puts it away. 

"That rubbish blinding grenade got me. It's been a while but I still feel awful." Sniper explains to the doctor. 

"Yes. Zhese are nasty things indeed. Effects on hearing and equilibrium can last a vhile," he says, "May I?" he asks Pyro, pointing at Sniper. The former steps back.

Soon, Sniper is laid down back on the bed by Medic, who examines him. Heavy removes the Fire Axe from the corpse and gives it back to Pyro. "Seems like you cracked some of your ribs, too. Did you fall?" 

"Jumped away from the grenade into some crates. Got smacked hard in th'chest." Sniper recalls. 

"Hmm... Zhat might be it. Unfortunately, until we get the power back on I cannot use my medigun on your bones, but I might be able to relieve some of zhe more annoying aftereffects from zhe grenade. It looks like you're going to have to stay here for now, Herr Sniper." 

Said mercenary lets out a string of murmured curses. 

"I vill stay here with you, not to vorry," Medic adds, which fails to reassure Sniper. "After all ve are still under attack. Speaking of." 

He walks away from the bed to Heavy and Pyro. "You two should go and take care of our guests. I do not think it is a good idea to leave them unattended for too long. Zhat would be unbecoming of us, as hosts, don't you agree?" 

" _Да_." Heavy replies, "We are great hosts." 

"Zhat we are, _mein Freund_ , zhat we are." he pats the taller man's arm. He then notices that Pyro is still throwing a few glances at Sniper. "He's in good hands. I'll make sure nothing happens to him. You go help Heavy, please." 

Pyro looks at Heavy and gives him a thumbs up. They both leave a short time after, as Medic attends to a reluctant Sniper.   
  
  


A few corridors away, Demo peeks with his eye over the corner. The door to his lab is wide open. He knows they're still searching in there, because he's hidden the deactivated bomb well enough, which lends him some time to think of a plan. 

Well, sort of. Because every fibre of his being screams at him to just shoot a grenade in there and be done with it already. 

For now, his sane part prevents him from acting upon this instinct, fully aware of the consequences of detonating an explosive in a lab crammed with bombs and very unstable components. He can hardly predict the extent of the damage to the building, or even him, were he unable to run for cover. 

At the same time, he cannot let them rummage in there for too long. 

And there's no trace of the other mercenaries, probably held up somewhere else. If he has to take action, it’s now or never. Those assholes do not get to just waltz in here, make a fool out of the entire RED mercenaries, and get away scot-free. There’s a price to pay for that and Demo will make sure that they all foot the bill. He lets out a shaky breath, fingers tightening around his Grenade Launcher. He should've grabbed the stickies. Curse him. 

_Damn_ , that also means he’s going to lose the bomb either way. There is absolutely no outcome where he’s going to be able to salvage the clue. He’d already discovered that the explosive is fairly simple in composition, be it the chemicals used and the detonation system. Probably made by someone without access to a proper lab, like his. 

If he follows through with his plan, that’ll make two of them. 

Demo spends some more aching seconds pondering his next course of action. 

"Oh, t'Hell with it," he whispers.

Shutting off his brain, he stands up, steels himself, runs towards his lab, clotheslining the one man guarding the door, and yells: 

"SEE YE IN HELL, YA MUTTS!" 

He catches them all completely off-guard with his bomb. 

Before a tornado of fire engulfs the entire lab and its occupants, Demoman sprints away with only a few seconds to spare. Unfortunately, the blast from the explosion soon catches up with him, he is projected a few meters away, landing heavily on the floor. Everything goes dark.

* * *

_“Ton attaque a tué des civils.”_

_“C’était nécessaire. Ils doivent comprendre qu’on ne plaisante plus.”_

_“Nous avons perdu des lignes de ravitaillement à cause de toi. Des personnes ont retiré leur soutien.”_

_“Tant mieux. On n’a pas besoin de ces trouillards. On a une guerre à terminer. Tu comprends, hein, Léon?”_

A pair of fingers snap in front of his face. 

“Earth to Spook? Are you with us?” 

Spy catches himself staring at the silhouettes of the dead men they found upon reaching the power supply room. He must have drifted off while Engineer was notifying the BLU pair. He can’t get out of this forsaken place any sooner. 

“Sorry. The pain must be getting to me.” 

The look Engineer gives him is uncertain, but the short man doesn’t insist. “We’ll get that sorted out.” 

“One thing at a time,” Spy dismisses the concern, “Any update on turning the power back on?” 

“Not yet. This place is a mess, as expected,” Engineer gestures around in disbelief. He’d give an earful to the employees, if he could. “I will need another pair of begoggled eyes.”

This wait is unending. Even after they’ve reached their goal. 

“Is there anything I can do to help in the meantime?” The Frenchman suggests, successfully hiding the tinge of exasperation in his voice. None of this is his teammate’s fault. 

“Maybe there is,” Engineer leans on a table across from him. He doesn’t clarify what he means, but his posture speaks a thousand words. It announces an overdue talk about the events in the workshop from earlier.

Sometimes, Spy wishes he wasn’t so good at deciphering body language. “Laborer. This is hardly the time.” 

“When will it be the time, though?” he quickly bounces off his words. “It has _‘hardly been the time’_ all week after you helped Scout with his report. When we _weren’t_ going through a blackout.”

Spy’s hand twitches. He brings it up to his lips, despite the lack of a cigarette. The last he smoked was before entering the power station and his nerves desperately beg for another one. In his current state, being called out for his poor parenting skills might just shove him over the edge into physical confrontation. And he doesn't want to get violent with his own team's Engineer. His own friend who refuses to grant him a break. 

“The investigation,” Spy says and he’s not even convinced by his own reply.

“Oh, please. I’m not stupid. This is a darn lie and we both know it.” Engineer doesn’t back down, “Tell me the truth.”

“ _C’est la vérité,_ ” he seethes as he loses patience with his teammate. It takes a lot of effort to not jump and deck him in the jaw to just shut him up. But that’s just not the way Spy does things. He usually fizzles out of existence when problems too difficult to handle arise. Which is sadly not a viable option at the moment. “Whether you believe it or not, I’m putting the safety of this team before my own personal matters.”

Engineer scoffs. “I just think you’re afraid.” And the remark knocks the wind out of Spy, "Afraid you've found out there's more to the kid than the front he puts up. That there’s a possibility that you two could get along." 

“That’s not-”

"Or are you afraid of getting close to him? Of committing to someone else, for once in your life?" 

A burning ache sears Spy’s chest as his mind briefly reminds of a distant, undeserved affection he had to renounce years ago. Affection that he's buried deep and never wanted to see resurface again. Affection that the likes of him cannot pretend to. This is the last straw. He lunges from his spot to Engineer, baring his teeth as if he were about to bite. 

“You… you do not get to pass a judgement, Laborer. Especially _not_ on things you have no idea about.” Anger spills out of him. He towers menacingly over the smaller man. 

Instead of fueling the Frenchman’s rage, Engineer softens up. “I don’t want to fight against you, Spook. I just want to help.” 

“Oh, you want to help me _?_ Maybe you should back off, this time. I don’t need your help with this and never have.” Spy sneers at him, “Need I remind you that I am in this mess solely because you put me there in the first place, with your constant meddling?”

The accusation hits Engineer in the face as hard as a gloved fist from Spy could have. Maybe even a little harder. Up close, the Frenchman can witness his companion’s expression turn into one of deep, intense regret. As a result, some of his own ire drains out of him, replaced by a healthy amount of mortification. He’s acting beneath himself. "I-I was perfectly satisfied with Scout not knowing." 

"Were you, really?" 

The Frenchman has run out of replies. 

A throat clearing sound rings next to them. They blink at each other. 

“Are we interrupting something?”

Engineer and Spy promptly turn their joined attention to the frames of their counterparts. Some time during their heated conversation, these two had found their way to the power supply room, only to walk in on them arguing. The two BLUs had thus waited for them to settle down before making themselves known, out of politeness. 

BLU Spy puts this whole debacle on the account of stress. For the sake of everyone in the room with him, he decides to change the subject. “We’re here now, so. Let’s complete our task.” 

“Right.” Spy puts some space between himself and Engineer in order to let him work with his counterpart. No reason to stall. As he walks away, the walkie-talkie at the RED Engineer’s belt crackles and starts emitting a message from one of the Soldiers. 

“...RED Soldier here. Do you read? Over.” 

Engineer grabs it promptly and answers. “Yes. What is it? Over.” 

The object bursts with a loud shout that startles the small Texan man, who almost drops it, as if he were holding onto a particularly lively small rodent instead of a communication device. “I SAID FREEZE, YOU ASSHOLES!! THIS IS THE POLICE!” 

Then it cuts, leaving the four men dumbfounded. Engineer is about to tuck it away, when Soldier speaks again. 

“Apologies. We are in the midst of dealing with the local authorities. That’s why I’m calling, by the way. Over.” he switches just as another policeman shouts. 

“Thanks for warning us. We’re almost done. Just keep them busy. Over.” Engineer orders.

“Actually I… I was calling to ask for permission to kill? Please? Over.”

Engineer pinches the bridge of his nose. “I repeat. Just keep them busy until we’re done. Do you copy? Over.”

Seeing as Soldier doesn’t answer immediately, either out of sheer disappointment or because he is still busy running away from the police, Engineer speaks in the walkie talkie again.

“Soldier. _Do you copy._ Over.”

“Affirmative. Copy that. Just keep them busy… will do. Oh yes, before I end this- we also met Scout. Our Scout. The RED One. He’s in the power station. Apparently the BLU one is here too.” Engineer grimaces when he learns that and Spy stirs up at the news, “But we lost him - STOP RUNNING, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST- we lost the RED Scout, though. So we’re also looking for him. Let us know if you see him. Over and out.” 

The communication ends. Filled with a renewed sense of hurry, the two Engineers immediately set off to get the power back on. 

“ _Jeremy_ ,” Spy mutters in a hushed voice, low enough to remain unheard. He starts towards the door, but BLU Spy quickly stops him. Both Engineers turn their heads to the two Spies who are staring at each other. The blue one speaks first. 

“Where are you going? We need you here.” 

"Scout." is all that comes out of Spy's mouth. 

BLU Spy shakes his head. "It's out of our hands. Let the Soldiers-" 

"No. He's on his own. We don't know if the intruder is still roaming around.” 

“He’s not helpless. He’s a trained fighter, like any of us. He can handle this.” 

“Besides, you always leave him, don’t you, Spy?” Engineer adds, with some bitterness to his inquiry, “Why would it be any different?”

“You don’t understand, there is _no respawn_ here,” Spy informs them both, growing tenser each minute he’s not out of the power supply room looking for his son. An endeavour that a part of him, the cold, emotionally distant one that’s usually in control, tries futilely to abort, to no avail. Some of the heat from the confrontation with Engineer remains. It’s taken the reins. 

“I am aware,” his BLU counterpart retorts. “This applies to all of us.”

“And what if something happens to _your_ Scout? Have you thought about that?” Spy states dryly.

BLU Spy chooses not to reply verbally. Instead, he slaps the taller man in front of him. “ _Reprends-toi, bon sang! Tu t’es écouté?_ ”

After the hit, Spy feels the pulsion to retaliate, and already their Engineers are moving to interfere if necessary, but he is unable to act upon it. Something holds him in place, breath cut short, mind absolutely numb, and the pain from his broken nose flaring up again. He’s losing it. This entire situation is driving him up the wall and he’s letting himself go with wild abandon. From his collected self that has managed to bring Engineer down from his panic earlier, he’s turned into a wound up mess that’s unable to contain his emotions properly. They lay raw, for everyone to see. 

BLU Spy puts a hand on his shoulder. “I am terrified too. But we have to take it.” 

Spy looks at him, having seemingly recovered a minimum of poise. Then, he proves the others wrong by rushing out of the room, leaving them in the dust. 

“Leave him,” RED Engineer tells BLU Spy who looks intent to bring him back, “He’s got somewhere to be, apparently.”

The remaining Frenchman gazes at the open door, shoulders lowered in defeat.   
  
  


No luck. This window won't budge. What's the point of installing windows if they can't even be opened? 

Scout attempts one last time. He uses his entire -albeit meagre- weight to try and pry the pane from its immovable frame, shifting his balance on his heels. His hands slip before any progress is made; he stumbles backwards, to his surprise, into someone stationed right behind him that he didn't notice. The force knocks him against the person. Scout soon finds himself meeting with the flat of the floor, once again. 

"Ooww..." he paws around for his flashlight that he lost in the fall, because he can barely discern the towering shadow that has appeared in the room. "Spy...?" 

He's not graced with a response, but that's probably because the Frenchman is overwhelmed with anger. Hell, he can even play the disappointed dad card, in regards to recent revelations. Scout wouldn't put it past him. 

"Spy, listen, it ain't what it looks like, okay? So don't be mad." the youth finally gets his hand on the light and switches it on promptly. "Y'can talk, y'know?" 

Still nothing. 

"What. Ain't got nothing to say?" he asks dejectedly. "Not even 'bout how you're bummed I'm ya son 'cause I can't follow simple orders?"

This last sentence finally makes the other react. A simple, almost unnoticeable tilt of the head.

“That it, huh. Tough luck, ‘cause I don’t give a fuck about-”

He points the light arbitrarily at the figure in front of him. His blood runs cold once he realises that it isn't wearing Spy's usual reddish brown suit. The man is dressed entirely in black, clenched fists encased in dark leather gloves. Judging by the state of this man’s clothes, crumpled here and there, he looks to have just got out of a battle of some kind. Scout can't see his face yet. Body completely tense in apprehension, he tilts the flashlight up, but before he reveals anything, the object is violently kicked out of his hand. It breaks upon crashing on the ground, bits of glass sent flying as the light abruptly disappears. 

"Shit!" 

Without an ounce of hesitation, Scout sweeps at the man's legs using his own, only for the latter to dodge as if he had predicted the move, but no matter. The young man simply needs him out of the way so he can make a swift escape for the door. He pushes himself off the floor. However, he's grabbed before he reaches the exit, then effortlessly dragged back into the room. In the midst of his struggles to slither away, he hears the man hiss between his teeth. 

" _Reste-là, toi._ " 

"Huh?" 

That sounds... French? 

Scout doesn’t allow himself a distraction. He headbutts his opponent and, with the height difference, hits him in the lower jaw. Enough for him to loosen his grip. The boy slips out of it. He doesn’t go far, unfortunately. The man catches him with a swing that sends him into the wall. Pain bursts through his spine, creeping right up to his shoulder blades and down to his lower back, coaxing a whimper out of him as the air is expelled violently from his lungs. His first instinct tells him to go for his pistol. It is, again, to no avail: the man swats the weapon out of his hand. 

Fingers lock around his neck. 

" _C'est bien. Ne bouge pas._ " 

Scout claws at the arm holding him in place. "W-what?" 

"I said." Pressure increases on his throat, almost crushing his windpipe. He lets out a strangled noise, "Don't move." 

A million thoughts race through his mind, bouncing around the walls of his skull. Mainly about how he's probably, most likely going to die here if he doesn't figure out a way out of this. Oxygen rapidly becomes scarce. It's made even worse by his fruitless thrashing. The man has him pinned exactly where he wants him. Like a bug squished against a flat surface. Ready to be flicked away without an afterthought.

As he fades, Scout perceives, peeking at the edge of his vision, a silhouette creeping behind the man currently holding him. Distant, almost surreal, he hears a low growl. 

“Get your hands _off_ him-” 

The gloved hands release him and he drops like a stone, gasping wildly for air. It's difficult for him to concentrate on anything else than the stinging pain in his neck, a cruel companion to the one in his back, although he picks up sounds of scuffle between his assailant and the person who came to his rescue. The real Spy.

Okay, now he’s certain his oxygen-deprived brain is just hallucinating and showing him outlandish scenarios that would never happen in a million years as a last attempt at grasping reality. He vaguely remembers Medic mentioning that during a dinner discussion. Nerd talk like this barely sticks to him. 

But the world doesn’t disappear. Or fade to black, just like before respawn when he’s sent through the process. His mind stays aware of its surroundings, even more so now that his breathing returns to a relatively normal pace. There is a fight happening right in front of him, as he lies against the cold tiles, between two men determined to take each other down. If anything, it resembles a desperate struggle more than a proper duel. Spy displays a level of violence Scout has rarely witnessed in the years he’s worked with him. Void of the usual restraint the other mercenary operates with. Only pure aggression aimed at his adversary, who responds with the same kind of last resort brutality surging in men fighting for their lives. No, it’s something else. Something more feral. 

Something that nails Scout to the floor, paralysed with fear. 

The altercation grows in intensity and volume. Neither man gains the upper hand. At this point, they’re exchanging harder and harder punches. Scout doesn’t have the time to wonder why any of this is unfolding. The two Soldiers burst in the room, flashlights ablaze, distracting the fighters for a split second. 

The intruder lets out a whisper. “Ah. Looks like my time is up.” He clocks Spy in the jaw to get away from him, then backs slowly to the window. From his pocket, he retrieves his blade, and raises its butt against the window. 

Scout hears a loud smash. Glass falls like snow around him. Freezing air seeps into the room. One of the Soldiers bellows through the broken window to the rapidly escaping shadow that dissolves within the night. No use going after him.

The lights switch back on, forcing the four men clench their eyes shut before they're blinded. What horrendous timing. But with this, the rest of the building springs back into functioning again, resuming its steady supply of electricity to all the places it provides for.

Both Soldiers open their eyes and look up at the ugly neon lights, a satisfied smile on their faces. The Frenchman, having retreated to a corner of the room, dusts himself off, expressionless. He makes no move. Says nothing. 

"Scout? Did you die, maggot?" RED Soldier addresses the boy currently in a recumbent position. 

"Nah. I'm restin'." he pouts, crossing his arms. "This is a really comfy floor." 

"Suit yourself." 

The young man cracks an eye open. "Wait. What about the police? How did ya guys evade them?" 

Both Soldiers exchange a glance. "We trapped them in a closet." BLU Soldier explains. Him and his counterpart perform an energetic high-five, exclaiming loudly “TEAMWORK!” 

Then they take a pause, hands still connected in mid air. They realise what they’re doing, which is basically sympathising with the enemy, a serious violation of their contracts, and turn away from each other, arms crossed. 

RED Soldier groans. “This shall never happen again.” 

“Never, ever, in the history of everything.” BLU Soldier goes one further. 

“Stop agreeing with me, BLU Scum.” Soldier faces him again, fists now raised.

“I’m not agreeing with you, I’m confirming!” the other Soldier does the same.

“That’s the exact same thing!!” 

Their helmets collide. Sensing trouble right away, Scout pushes himself up to interfere. Any other day, he’d cheer them on. Right now, he’s exhausted to the point of not finding it in himself the will to humour them. “Guys. Guys. Keep that heat for the battlefield.” the older mercenaries scowl, but seem to agree with that statement. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of his fath- _Spy_ , who, for once, sticks out like a sore thumb against the off-white walls of the place. Scout knows he should say something. About what just happened. The words get stuck in his throat, and he’s now gawking at Spy. Stripes of poorly wiped dry blood smear the bottom of the Frenchman’s face that isn’t concealed under his mask. Like a wild animal. Scout winces. 

“Spy-”

“Don’t.” He cuts him off, teeth gritted, eyes revulsed. “Just… don’t.” 

He walks out. Scout finds himself frozen in place. It doesn’t last long. “Let’s just… let’s just go find the others, okay.” he suggests to the Soldiers still in the room with him.

Before they do so, he remembers to fetch his pistol and busted flashlight. A last glance at the broken window chills him to the bone. 

* * *

Familiar shapes cut through the dark. Bright. Colourful. Enticing. Exuding a sense of warmth and comfort he's been craving. He’d miss them so deeply, that just glancing at them makes him feel complete again. 

Pyro bounces around excitedly as Heavy watches on, a slightly more appropriate expression on his face. 

Everything is on fire. 

And it crawls quickly in bright veins, consuming everything on its path. The walls, the ceiling, and the scarce, yet hapless furniture laid out in the corridor. Trapped within the flames, Demo lies, hopefully spared from a fiery death, but nonetheless not in any shape to move. It's only a matter of minutes until he gets entirely swallowed by the blaze. Heavy takes a cautious step towards him, but the fire roars at his approach, as if alive, as if waiting to claim his fallen teammate. The Russian glances back at Pyro. 

The other pauses his celebration. He tilts his head, uncertain as to why Heavy looks so worried. 

Fire is their friend. It will take Demo right back to respawn. They'll get him there. 

Then it strikes him. 

_Respawn is not active at the moment._

Demo will not come back from playing with the fire. 

Without further notice, Pyro crosses the barrier of flames, protected by his uniform. He gets to Demo as the flames are closing in and shakes him softly. The Scotsman blinks himself awake, startled by the fire around him. He snaps his head to Pyro, who is busy trying to lift him up so they can both walk out. With the remainder of his strength, Demoman stands up to help him out. Unfortunately, when they both start moving, the flames double in intensity. 

Even for Pyro, finding a way through has become trickier. 

Nonetheless, he boldly takes another step, but Demo holds him back, shaking his head. 

"Lad, we can't. I'll burn." 

Pyro shifts his gaze between him and Heavy, at a loss, unable to decide a proper course of action. The Russian man stares in horror, eyes wide and mouth hanging. He cannot help them. 

"Save yeself." Demoman tells Pyro. "Maybe there's another way-" 

There isn't. They are both completely surrounded. 

It’s too much. First being plunged in the dark against his will. Then almost losing one of his teammates. And _now this_. The fire has turned against them. Out of a mix of anger and despair, Pyro throws his head back and lets out a shrill, yet muffled scream.

It's covered by several sirens going off at once. The first one warns of intruders, the second of fire. Light and colours flood his field of vision. The sprinklers click to life. Water pours from them and soaks the entire place, stifling the fire in its wake. Pyro drops to his knees, eyes wet under his gasmask. As if the water had leaked through the rubber. 

It's over. 

It's finally over. 

"Ain't that... lucky... 'ey?" Demoman mutters as he allows himself a moment of relief. "They came through. Those bastards came through. At the last minute. Can’t believe them. How cheeky. M'gonna give em... a real big smooch... when they arrive." 

It coaxes a chuckle out of Pyro. He can't help but hug Demoman. 

"Easy there, lad, I'm nae in good condition t'be crushed."

Which is unfortunate, because soon they're both squeezed by Heavy's gigantic arms. A very formal, professional embrace, but an embrace nonetheless.

* * *

As soon as they reach the vans, Engineer turns on the radio. The rest of his group stays outside of the vehicle for now, gathered by the driver seat where he's currently installed in. Soldier and Spy both look on as the Texan fiddles hurriedly with the device while Scout engages in a staring contest with a pebble on the ground. None of the older mercenaries has commented on his disobedience since they all left the building, but he knows that the moment they establish contact with the base, they'll be telling him off. 

"Come in, RED Base," Engineer says, "Do you read?"

The lack of immediate response worries them. 

Thankfully, a message finally goes through. "Ja, zhis is RED Base," Medic's voice brings relief to the four men who hear it, especially Engineer. The short man leans against his seat. "Good vork on getting zhe power back on, _Schatzi_." the German adds, oblivious to the fact that Engie may not be alone. 

The short man coughs. A slight red hue dusts his cheeks. The others do not comment. "Hum. Yes. Thank you. It took a while, I apologise about that. I sure hope it didn't put y'all in a difficult position." 

"Vell… " Medic lingers on his word, "Ve did get attacked." 

"What." Engineer grows tense once again. "What happened?"

"Several intruders got in," the doctor tells him, "Zhey're all dead now. Also, a fire broke out."

Okay, there’s a lot to unpack there. 

"You're kidding."

"No, no! It's all sorted it out now. Zhe sprinklers took care of it. However, I'm afraid zhe damage is… considerable. It vill take a vhile to reverse it, if it can even be done. Herr Demo blew up his own lab." 

The casualness with which he delivers the news is chilling. 

"Why did he do that? Any reason?" 

"He told me zhat our intruders vere looking for zhe bomb he had retrieved during de-mining. According to him, zhat vas zhe only course of action possible." 

"Did you not try to inform us of any of this before we contacted you?"

"Oh, _ja_ , but Herr Demo told me he got no reply." 

All stares lock in on Scout. He doesn't need to lift his head to know. 

"Alright. What's the situation now?" Engineer asks, eyes not leaving Scout. 

"I have two injured men in my clinic, I plan to use the medigun on zhem after zhis exchange. Heavy and Pyro are retrieving zhe intruders' bodies… or rather, what's left of zhem." Medic explains. 

"I will leave you to it, then. We'll be departing from the power station shortly. When we come back, we'll decide on what to do next." And it might involve, to Engineer's utter dismay, a communication with the Administrator. 

"Understood. See you zhen." 

And with that, the radio falls silent. 

"I hope you're proud of yourself, Scout." Soldier finds it judicious to reproach the boy. 

"A'course I ain't." Scout kicks the pebble away, "but I told ya, it wasn't my idea. I didn't want t’leave this stupid van." 

"This ain't going to cut it, son." Engineer joins in, “you still left your station out of your own volition.” The young man looks up at him, confused, so he re-words his previous sentence, “You still chose to leave and follow the BLU Scout.” 

“Oh.” Scout frowns, “Yeah. Right. I'm sorry, Engie. I really am.” 

Engineer trusts the sincerity behind the young man's apology. However, he can’t repress his disappointment. "I don't know what to tell you. I thought better of you." 

Hearing this, Scout swallows thickly. Insults, he could deal with. Anger and reprimand, too. Those three he had expected for his behaviour. He'd know how to reply to them: with the same aggression he'd be shown, which would be easy to bounce off. Against all odds, however, the only emotion he can sense out of them is disappointment. Even Spy's entire demeanour betrays it. No, there’s something else, too. Scout cannot pinpoint it. Spy hardly voices anything as he stares at his son, lifting a hand that he clenches, and quickly withdraws. With a click of the tongue, he turns on his heels to retreat behind the vehicle. Scout is left to bear with shame that takes hold of him. For someone with the bad habit of brushing off consequences, this feeling is a new one. And more importantly, totally unwelcome.

Spy fumbles nervously for his cigarettes. They seem the only solution to calming himself down. He's about to light a stick he barely manages to keep still when he catches hushed, agitated words flow from the direction of the BLU team's van. Normally, Spy would dismiss those and walk further away to find a spot to smoke in peace, however, he finds himself intrigued. 

He decides to investigate. 

To his surprise, he spots the BLU Spy in the middle of sermoning the BLU Scout, who's leaning against the van. In French. The boy replies in short English sentences, but understands what's being told to him. All of it. BLU Spy speaks with concern about what happened. About the Scouts' excursion, and their lack of hindsight. He manages to lay everything Spy had failed to just minutes ago. So he stands there, stunned, as he watches his compatriot get through to the youth with relative ease. The latter still puts up some defences, although they're only out of a feeble attempt to keep a smidgen of pride. 

BLU Spy pauses when he realises someone else is listening to him. He goes for his knife, before settling down. 

"Oh. It's you, Red." he remarks. "Give me a second." he holds a finger up. " _Tu peux y aller. On en reparlera tout à l'heure_ ," he then addresses the BLU Scout. 

The boy doesn't have to be told twice. He leaves the two older men alone. 

"Kids, huh?" BLU Spy chuckles nervously. Spy doesn't reply to this. "Are you about to go for a smoke?" 

"Hm? Yes." 

"Mind if I join?"

"Not at all."

They both move away from the vehicles. Once they reach a reasonable distance, Spy finally lights his cigarette and takes a long awaited drag out of it. 

"He knows French, then." he says after smoking some more. 

BLU Spy nods. "Still learning. He's getting better, though." 

"Good to hear." A small breeze carries his words away. Since he has nothing interesting to add on this topic, he instead asks, "Any trouble at your base?" 

"No. Not at all. The rest of our team has reported nothing of interest, except for mild headaches due to our gaudy blue LEDs. I'm glad I didn't have to stay there." He lets out a weak laugh. 

"I see." 

"I surmise something happened at your base?" 

"You surmise right." 

"I find it odd that this sabotage seems to aim at you REDs specifically. The only times we BLUs suffer from it, it's only as a byproduct." he tells the other, "I've done my fair share of thinking about this entire issue, you know.” 

“You have?” Spy raises an eyebrow. 

“Yes. My take on this is- If it were someone trying to mess with the Gravel War, why aren't both teams targeted? They're not even trying to frame us for all the grief they're causing you." 

"Your guess is as good as mine." Spy observes the incandescent end of his cigarette until it burns into his sight. He notices that his right glove's seam has burst open from the whole ordeal, right at the base of his thumb, revealing some of his skin. This makes him frown. "The only thing I know for certain is that things are about to get worse." 

Unable to refute that, his counterpart prefers to end the conversation on this, and let him enjoy this small smoking break while it lasts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> French translation:
> 
> "Ton attaque a tué des civils.” - Your attack has killed civilians.
> 
> “C’était nécessaire. Ils doivent comprendre qu’on ne plaisante plus.” - It was necessary, they need to understand that we're not joking around anymore.
> 
> “Nous avons perdu des lignes de ravitaillement à cause de toi. Des personnes ont retiré leur soutien.” - We've lost several supply lines because of you. Some people have withdrawn their support.
> 
> “Tant mieux. On n’a pas besoin de ces trouillards. On a une guerre à terminer. Tu comprends, hein, Léon?” - All the better. We don't need those cowards. We have a war to end. You understand that, right, Léon?
> 
> “C’est la vérité,” - It's the truth,
> 
> “Reprends-toi, bon sang! Tu t’es écouté?” - Goddamit, get a hold of yourself! Are you listening to what you're saying?
> 
> "Reste-là, toi." - Stay here.
> 
> "C'est bien. Ne bouge pas." - Good. Don't move.
> 
> "Tu peux y aller. On en reparlera tout à l'heure," - You can go. We will talk about this again later.
> 
> And that's it for the French! See you next week for the next chapter! (I might also come back to this to correct potential typos and mistakes. But this is a long chapter to review, so I will take a small break!)


End file.
